The Nephew
by Sunnykisses
Summary: Season two. A death in the family rocks the Halpert's worlds, sending them on a tailspin to try to get back to normality. Jim is caught in the middle between work, family, and his ever-incumbent love for Pam, who has recently become single. However, being caught in the balancing act leaves little room for pleasure. When things go amiss, however, Pam stays firmly by Jim's side.
1. Absence

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter one

* * *

**A/n: **This story takes place during season two of The Office, beginning with the episode "_Take Your Daughter to Work Day" _(2006).It is March in Scranton, Pennsylvania. _The Nephew _revolves around the lives of Jim and his brothers after a death in the family.

**Pairings:** Jim Halpert/Pam Beesly. Tom Halpert/OC, Pete Halpert/OC, Gerald Halpert/Betsy Halpert, Phyllis Lapin/Bob Vance, Angela Martin/Dwight Schrute, Larissa Halpert/OC, etc.

**Beta: **I am still working on finding a Beta. If you're interested, drop me a line. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

"Absence is one of the most useful ingredients of family life, and to dose it rightly is an art like any other"

~Freya Stark

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."

How many times a day did he hear Pam Beesly say those very say words? Sitting near his desk and twirling a wooden pencil between his slender fingers, Jim Halpert considered this question. In the years he had worked at this once unassuming paper company, Pam's greeting had remained the same. Pam, however, did not.

Jim tried not to count Pam marital (or, lack thereof) troubles as one of the few changing currents in this hum-drum office. Besides, the fact that Roy had stormed out of Dunder Mifflin with Pam's ring and heart still made Jim's blood boil. Call it a guilty conscience.

It was stupid, really. Irresponsible. Reckless. Unforgiving. Jim tried not to remember that night. Well, he _told_ himself not to remember, and then spent most of his day reliving the moment over and over in his head.

"_I knew it! Damn it, I _knew_ something was going on between you two!" _

Glancing around the rest of the office, Jim spotted Michael Scott speaking with Creed—or trying to—and Creed taking a sip of coffee, his eyes large and pupils dilated. Who knew what went through Creed's head. Kevin was frowning at a calculator as he stood in front of the copier. Brett, a cameraman, had turned off his camera and was sitting moodily on a couch near Michael's office. Nothing was going on. Nothing deserved to be taped. People were actually _working_.

"_Roy! Oh my—no, no! He kissed _me_, Roy!" _

Stanley was speaking with his daughter, who was staring at Ryan Howard from afar.

Right.

Jim sighed. It was Take Your Daughter to Work Day; yet another time during the long year when Michael was legally allowed to bring children into the office and entertain them until closing time.

"_Tell him; tell Roy that you kissed me first. I didn't kiss you back. I _didn't._ You didn't mean anything by that kiss, did you? Tell him that." _

Sasha, Toby's daughter, bounded over to Pam, her eyes wide and curious. Pam, noticing the little girl, ended her phone conversation. As Sasha pointed to various candies, phones, and pens on Pam's desk, Pam explained each item's worth. Both were smiling, both were enjoying themselves. Jim watched in amazement.

He loved her so.

"_C'mon, then, Jim. Tell me you didn't mean anything by that kiss and I might—_might_—consider forgiving this two-timing whore." _

Phyllis accidentally knocked over her empty mug of coffee. It clattered to the ground. Jim jumped at the noise, his conscious caught between memory and reality.

"Watch where you throw, Phyllis!" Dwight Schrute snapped, rolling his eyes. "At least _act _like you can throw a javelin. It might come in handy someday."

"_Acting all high and mighty, huh? You think punching me is going to scare me? You're a real player, Halpert. You think you can waltz in a take my fiancée?" _

Pam caught Jim's longing gaze. She could feel his eyes trained on her ever since she got off the phone with Michael's mother, who liked to call and make sure Michael was being treated properly. As Sasha bounded off to find her father, Pam looked towards Jim's desk, a place she once found solace. Things had changed.

"_You know what, take her, then! You can _have _her. I'm done with this filthy town, anyway. I've been done for a while. All I need is one thing—that ring." _

Pam looked down at her hands. Her bare ring finger. This was her life, now. She might as well make do. Jim had had no right to kiss her, Pam knew, but Roy was gone. She couldn't admit her feelings to Jim before, so what was holding her back now?

"Psst, Jim."

Looking up, Jim raised his eyebrows. Pam was giving him a mischievous grin. With a finger, she gestured from him to come to her round desk. _Just like old times. _

"You rang," Jim let his elbows rest on the familiar desk, his smile just as goofy. He was so thrilled that she had said his name, that she was acknowledging him. Perhaps they could back to their friendship again.

"So," Pam started, smoothing out her pencil skirt. "I know you're an uncle, and my sister, Penny, just announced her pregnancy, so…you have any ideas on how to be the best aunt ever?"

"_Ever?"_ Jim repeated slowly. "That would probably take some thinking." He stroked an imaginary beard with a few intricate fingers.

"You _are _an uncle, right?" Pam reiterated.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "I've got a nephew and a niece."

"How old are they?" Pam asked. "I mean, they're older than my niece or nephew, obviously."

"I'm pretty sure you're the aunt to a negative nine month year-old." Jim noted.

"Touché."

"No, uh, Elijah is eight and Vanessa is nine. It's very cool. They're very cool."

"Thank goodness they're _cool_." Pam rolled her eyes.

"Well, they have a cool uncle, what can I say." Jim shrugged helplessly. "Also," he took in a deep breath. "I'm the only aunt or uncle they have that's not married."

At the thought, the two grew silent.

"So…" Pam looked down briefly, pushing some curls away from her face. "You going to the _thing_ tonight?"

Jim gave her an indignant look, rolling his eyes. "Why would I?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Pam slugged his shoulder playfully. "I'll go if you go."

Jim smiled softly, looking down. The way Pam said it; it was almost like they were going on a date.

_Don't get sentimental, Halpert. _

"Yeah," Jim shrugged. "Okay. I'll go."

"Good." Pam smiled. "Meet you there, then."

"I guess you will." Jim turned to head back towards his desk. He could feel Dwight's eyes staring him down from behind. It was like Dwight was boring holes into the back of Jim's head.

"Jim," Pam stopped him, her voice edging on nervousness. He turned around quickly, facing her with a questioning look. She looked down.

"It's good to speak to you again."

"Yeah." Jim smiled. "It's good to see you again, too. I mean, well, to speak to you. Uh, you know, like before."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." Jim swallowed. "So, I'll see you there, okay?"

"You better come, James!" Pam pointed a cunning finger in his direction.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, _Pamela_." Jim returned with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

Truth was, any time he could see Pam he was going to take.


	2. Phone Calls

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter two

* * *

"We are always too busy for our children; we never give them the time or interest they deserve. We lavish gifts upon them; but the most precious gift, our personal association, which means so much to them, we give grudgingly"

~Mark Twain

The sign said 'All You Can Eat', that seemed good enough to Jim. Besides, it wasn't every evening he trudged over to a buffet for dinner. Of course, it wasn't every evening he ate with his coworkers, either.

Indeed, the entire body of Dunder Mifflin had arrived for Phyllis Lapin's birthday party. Michael was running around frantically, trying to get the birthday girl to take pictures with most everyone at the restaurant. Dwight was inspecting the array of vegetables with a disapproving scowl, and the warehouse guys were helping themselves to thirds.

Jim, well, he sat by himself, picking at his food carelessly and thumbing through a newspaper. He was trying to check on the Penn Quakers men's basketball team. He didn't care much for college sports, but his Philadelphia 76ers weren't playing, so he had to settle. Besides, he really liked how that Ibrahim Jaaber was playing. Now, where was that sports section?

The door opened with a little _ding_, sounding the arrival of another customer. Jim didn't acknowledge the noise, but others began to smile and wave.

"Pam! Hey, over here!"

Jim's head shot up. She was _here._ He thought she would never come.

She looked beautiful.

Pam tucked some hair behind her ear, waving back to Michael. She then smoothed out her dress. Jim watched her longingly. A _dress_. A simple, yet elegant dress. Who knew such a plain garment could make her look so pretty?

With a clatter, Jim's fork slipped from his limp fingers.

Moving towards the noise, Pam noticed Jim. He had a very peculiar look on his face, as if he were torn between reaching towards his silverware and pushing it aside. Frowning, she noticed that he sat alone. His suit jacket was off, his tie a little loose. He looked rugged, and, although a little uncomfortable, he looked handsome.

Jim swallowed hard, waving to Pam with two fingers. She smiled and walked over to him, setting down her purse and peacoat.

"Room for one more?" her voice was ever so sweet. All Jim could do was nod weakly. He watched as she took the seat across from him.

"I'm not really that hungry," she explained. "Besides, I'm not sure how edible this food is."

"Yeah." Jim laughed. "Right." It was weird for him that she declined food. Almost like she was dieting or something. The last time Pam dieted, as if she needed to lose weight, was for her wedding with—

With Roy.

Jim's smile faded, and he looked down at his nearly empty plate. Just the thought of Roy Anderson sent him back in on himself, surrounded by guilt and anger. And Pam. He was always surrounded by Pam.

"Jim, what is it?" Pam cocked her head to the side, frowning.

"Nothing," Jim shrugged, hurriedly thinking up some story to convince her he was all right. "I was just thinking about all the…daughters that came to work today."

"Are you thinking of your niece?"

"Vanessa?" Jim scoffed. "Larissa and her husband moved to Maine. I couldn't have brought Vanessa if I tried."

"Does your sister contact you much?" Pam asked softly. Jim stopped chewing for a second, setting down his fork. His sister was not someone he or his brothers talked about much. She was always too good for them.

"No." Jim muttered. "No. Not me. I'm the youngest; she wouldn't want to talk to me."

"Aw, you're the baby." Pam joked with a goofy grin.

"Ha ha." Jim rolled his eyes. "You and my brothers, always giving me a hard time."

"I can't imagine," Pam shook her head and leaned back against the booth, letting her head rest on the soft padding. "My sister and I have always been close."

"You get used to it." Jim shrugged. He suddenly realized how whiny he sounded, how he was turning this into his sob story, his miserable, untold memoir. "Uh," Jim cleared his throat. "I still get to hang out with my nephew. He always wants me to come to his Little League games."

"Because you're a Little League expert."

"Naturally, yes." Jim sat up straighter, pretending to look dignified. "I am of the highest caliber in such _sport." _

"Coach-pitch." Pam widened her eyes. "That takes effort."

"No," Jim chided her playfully. "Not coach-pitch. Not even T-ball. No, young Elijah has graduated to _Little League._"

"Your brother used to always call the office, asking me to remind you about his son's T-ball game." Pam remembered.

"Pete?" Jim clarified. "Yeah. He thinks T-ball is equivalent to the Major Leagues."

"You always said no." Pam pressed.

"I was working." Jim shrugged, but he wished he could take back his excuse. He knew that he devoted little time to his family. "It's just," he mulled over his words. "I enjoy the _game,_ sure, but my brothers always end up-"

"Pranking you?" Pam finished with a knowing smile. "Your brothers love to play pranks, don't they?"

"Yeah." Jim scoffed. "That's an understatement."

"What about your sister, does she like that sort of stuff?" Pam asked curiously.

Jim laughed, shaking his head. "Larissa hates practical jokes—she always has."

"What is she like?" Pam had to know.

"Pretty." Jim answered slowly, after some hesitation. "She's very pretty. I don't know, she's the oldest out of us, and she makes sure everyone knows."

"She's confident," Pam mused.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "She's in charge of her life, and her husband. But he's pretty good at taking orders."

Pam looked down, frowning. Larissa must be so different from her. She was neither confident or the oldest. Or pretty. Pam didn't think she was very pretty. If that was the kind of girl Jim grew up with, then how was he supposed to think about her?

Jim shifted uncomfortably. Apparently, Pam didn't like the quip. Perhaps she was thinking about Roy. Jim made a mental note not to mention the word 'husband' again in future conversations.

"Well, here." Jim slipped out his wallet, searching through an array of family pictures until he found a wrinkled photo. "This is my sister."

Pam took the small photograph, her heart sinking at the sight. Larissa was gorgeous, with long, tumbling, dark hair, a beautiful complexion, and a pearly, white smile. And her husband. Oh. Strong build, short, cropped hair, and a military uniform donned on his broad shoulders. What was that? Navy? Something like that.

Vanessa, their daughter, sat on her father's lap, smiling at the camera as it fixed this moment in time. She looked just like her mother, her hair just as dark and long. She had her father's eyes. She was beautiful. Pam could never be like this. She could never be the perfect wife. That's why Roy left.

Something was wrong, Jim could tell. Pam seemed to be sinking on herself as she stared at the photo. She seemed entranced with the picture.

"Uh," Jim cleared his throat. "Daniel, my brother-in-law, his family has a long line of men in the Coast guard, so, uh, so is he."

"They're a lovely-looking family." Pam muttered, sliding the photo back across the table.

"Sure…" Jim put the picture back and slipped his wallet into his pocket. "I haven't seen them in a while. But, I mean, for the most part, Larissa's just a regular sister and-"

"Well, what about your nephew? And your other brother? Does Tom have any kids?"

"Um-"

"Can I have your attention?" A strong voice boomed over a microphone. Eventually, the noise died down. Customers not involved with Phyllis's party looked around in confusion.

Jim was glad for the distraction. He didn't like talking so much about himself. He wanted to know about _Pam, _no share is life story.

"Is this thing on? Testing, testing." Bob Vance pounded the microphone with a meaty finger. Jim and Pam glanced at each other, both suppressing grins.

"Good evening one and all, and thank you for coming to wish my wonderful girlfriend a happy birthday." Bob beamed at the motley crew of white and blue collar workers. Michael cheered.

"I'd like to share a story," Bob continued. "If you don't mind, of course." he looked over to Phyllis, who shook her head, flushing. Jim leaned back, this would take a while.

_Ring. _

_Ring. _

_Ring. _

Jim jumped at the noise. Whose phone was that? People around him fished through pockets and purses to see if their phones were ringing.

_Ring._

Oh. That was _his _phone. Pam was giving him an amused smile, feigning annoyance. He shrugged helplessly at her, pulling out his flip phone.

Larissa.

"Well, who is it?" Pam whispered. From further ahead in the room, Bob Vance droned on, taking short breaks to drink. Pam wasn't interested in the slightest.

"It…It's my sister." Jim frowned, staring at the phone in disbelief. Why would she be calling him?

"You said she never called you!" Pam pointed at him cunningly. "Well!"

"She doesn't." Jim muttered. "She _never _calls."

"Oh." Pam could sense Jim's change in mood. His phone still rang. He still stared at it blankly. People were beginning to frown. "Answer it," she touched his arm gently. "We'll all be here when you return."

"Yeah. Okay." Jim got up quickly. He didn't know how much time he had until the call went to voicemail. He headed towards the door.

"No way." Dwight Schrute was suddenly at the door, blocking Jim's way to fresh air. To solitude. "You can't bail on this party."

_Ring._

"Hey, is Michael choking on that carrot?" Jim pointed over to Michael, who was listening to Bob's monologue. However, from where Dwight was standing, Michael was out of view.

"Michael!" Dwight yelled, running over to his boss.

Rolling his eyes, Jim slipped out the door.


	3. Julia

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter three

* * *

"Every man sees in his relatives, and especially in his cousins, a series of grotesque caricatures of himself"

~H. L. Mencken

"James, it's Ris."

Jim stood shivering outside the restaurant. In front of him, cars stood still throughout the vast parking lot. He was alone, save a few lingering employees off for a smoke. They mostly crouched against the cold wall.

"H-hey." Jim could see his breath in front of him. Damn, it was freezing. The temperature had surely dropped since he had arrived at the buffet.

Also, Jim had no idea what to say. He hadn't lied to Pam when he said he never talked to his sister. They _never talked_. And now, that she finally called him, that she finally put her foot forward, Jim didn't know how to respond. He had forgotten that she was the only person he knew who still called him James. It made him feel like a child again.

"Uh," he cleared his throat. Something had to be wrong. With Daniel. With her. With…Vanessa. This had to be about Vanessa. "H-how are you?" He tried to keep his voice steady.

"Something's happened, James." Larissa ignored his question. She always ignored his questions. Jim gulped. He knew it. He knew as soon as he saw her number on his Caller ID. Something must be wrong.

"What?" he asked softly. "What is it?"

"Julia was in a car accident."

* * *

_Julia Halpert was running late, and she knew it. Rushing out of her office, she threw on her coat while fishing her keys out and trying to remember where she parked. She knew she shouldn't have answered that last phone call. She didn't have any time, but she did, anyway. And what a waste that was. _

_Sliding into the driver's seat of her white minivan, Julia took a moment to decompress. She let her hazel hair fall forward as she stuck her key into the ignition. Today had been another long, stressful day. And she hadn't even started dinner yet. _

_Dinner. Damn. Julia sat back up quickly. How could she forget about dinner? Peter and Elijah were probably sitting around, hungry. Waiting for her to come home. Why had she picked today, of all days, to work late? She had to start dinner immediately. Elijah and Peter were going to a game tonight. _

"_All right, Julia, get home as fast as possible." She spoke to herself, rubbing her temples softly before backing out of the parking lot. _

_Julia had been working in accounting for years at a dusty old office in Kingston, Pennsylvania. She took the same route to and from work every day. She knew every nook in the roads she drove over. The rides to and from work were almost second nature to her. It was time for her to zone out and relax. _

_And think about if she had enough paprika. _

_Julia went through the mental recipe in her head. It was a simple dish; really, it just took a while to prepare. Perhaps she could just substitute with some grilled cheese. The boys liked grilled cheese. She wondered if her soap opera would be on in the evening. She hoped so. _

_Julia did not register the stoplight up ahead. _

_Julia did not see the car advancing towards her. _

_Julia did not stop until her car was screeching across the roadway and her airbag deployed._

* * *

"She died instantly." Larissa's voice was direct and factual. She seemed unfazed. "The other driver immediately called 9-1-1, but it didn't help, any. Julia was driving way too fast. She didn't look to see where she was going. James, she was driving seventy miles per _hour_."

Speechless. He was speechless. Words would not—could not—form in Jim's mouth. Responding to his sister seemed useless. What was he to say? How could he make this better? He felt sick.

"I just found out." Larissa continued, taking in the silence as another excuse to speak to her youngest brother. "Tom was with Pete when he got the news. Elijah doesn't know. Yet."

_Yet. _

Jim couldn't imagine what it would be like, to have to tell your son—or any family member, come to think of it—about death. Especially a child. _Especially_ his nephew. Elijah.

"Listen, James, I'm going to go check on Mom and Dad, okay? I don't think they've been told yet and-"

He hung up. Jim had never shut his phone faster. He had never felt so helpless.

Should he sit? His legs felt wobbly. Perhaps he should head over towards his car and drive away. Drive all the way to Pete's house. Drive to see Larissa in Maine. Drive _somewhere. _

Jim considered all this, but his legs wouldn't allow him to move. He was frozen in this spot on the sidewalk, staring at his car, his back to the restaurant. The life. Pam.

Reaching shakily towards his wallet, Jim pulled it out again. He pushed past the money and cards until he got to the pictures. His parents; Tom and his wife, Isabella; Larissa, Daniel, and Vanessa…there. Pete, Julia, and Elijah. Jim took the picture from his billfold and held it in his trembling hands.

They looked so happy. Julia always looked happy. Elijah was merely a baby at the time the picture was taken, but Jim could see how much he looked like his mother. The thought, once consoling to Jim, suddenly saddened him.

This wasn't fair. It really wasn't. This shouldn't happen to Pete. Or anyone. Pete was the sensible, middle brother. Except for his mischievous side, he was rather enjoyable to be around. Jim was certain Pete only pulled pranks on Jim per Tom's request. The oldest brother.

No matter how much Jim's brothers bothered him, he knew they loved him. And their wives. Pete was no exception. He always called Julia his 'jewel'. It seemed cheesy before.

Okay, it was still a little cheesy.

Jim rubbed his hands together, trying to find some sense of warmth. Some sense of solitude.

Something to help him move on.


	4. The Aftermath

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter four

* * *

"A family is a place where minds come in contact with one another"

~Buddha

Jim did not know how many minutes had passed since he had received the news of his sister-in-law's death. Everything seemed the same, yet so different at the same time. The few employees that were leaning against the wall were still smoking their cigarettes, as they had been before. The cars were still parked, motionless. Without a driver or guidance.

_Just like Julia. _

_Damn. Why_ did he think of that? Why would he even _think_ that? He was disgusted with himself. His eyes burned all of a sudden, Jim felt like punching something. He slipped his eyes shut for a moment, taking in a deep, low breath.

Seconds later he was tumbling to the ground, his hands struggling to find balance. The palms of his hands frantically collided with the unforgiving sidewalk. He let out an anguished cry, a noise he never wished to hear again, and scrambled into a sitting position. He needed to calm down. He needed to think _rationally_.

Jim put his head in his hands. He could not tell if he was shivering from the cold or the shock. And what an interesting phenomenon to be a part of, when you were so cold your breath became visible, and your fears and sorrows resulted in an unwelcome sweat running down your neck.

The sounds of shoes caught the attention of Jim. His mouth clamped shut immediately, as if he were afraid his labored breaths might be heard from far away. He did not look up or stand. In fact, he did nothing at all. He suddenly had no energy. He tried to guess who was leaving.

He heard the familiar _click-clack _of a woman's heels, and another pair of shoes, perhaps a man. Obviously, they weren't paying too much attention to the sidewalk, because they had not acknowledged Jim.

"Look, Dwight, that's Jim."

He spoke too soon. Lifting his head ever so slightly from his hunched-over position, Jim observed Angela Martin and Dwight Schrute as they exited the restaurant arm in arm. They had stopped, and were staring at Jim as if he was…well, _different_. Not up to their standards, anyway.

"What the hell is he doing?" Dwight asked, his voice caught between amused and annoyed. Perhaps concerned, Jim thought, with little consolation. If anyone was going to care about him, it certainly would not be _Dwight. _

"He's probably praying." Angela answered haughtily. "He needs all the forgiveness he can get, from all the things he's done to you."

"Hmm." Dwight led her away from Jim, as if he was contagious. An untouchable.

Maybe Angela was right. Maybe he should be praying.

But he wasn't. And he didn't. Jim kept his head down, and he didn't move. He didn't want to move. Julia would never move again. Pete would never kiss his wife again. Elijah would never tell his mother he loved her again.

What was worse, marrying the love of your life and having her die or not being with your soul mate and watching her live?

As if to answer his question, Jim's jacket was suddenly placed around his slumped shoulders. The effect was so warming and needed that Jim nearly fell over again. Tender hands held him steady, bringing him back to reality. Bringing him home.

"Jim," Pam's voice was concerned and gentle. Managing to look up, he noticed her frown, her peach coat, and pink nose. "Jim, what's wrong?"

Such a simple question. Such an overused query. It still meant the world to him.

Slipping on her own jacket, Pam took a seat next to Jim on the edge of the sidewalk. She wasn't quite sure what he was doing, hiding between two Toyotas, but she wasn't about to leave him in this state. If she only knew what was going on. Perhaps all she _could_ do was sit with him.

"Jim," she tried once more, looking over at him. His hands covered his face. "What-?"

Jim suddenly stood, as if he had sat on a needle. His hands raked through his shaggy hair. Pam could see how he shook, his fingers desperately tried to grasp locks of his brunette hair, but they were too sporadic.

He didn't want to bring her into this. Pam didn't need to know his pain, she didn't need to tell him clichés and shed tears for him. He couldn't do it. Jim couldn't be weak. Not around his siblings, and _certainly _not around Pam.

What Jim really, _truly_ felt at the moment, besides the remorse for his brother, of course, was the dull ache for home. Not just that, but his _bed. _He was exhausted. He was miserable.

Poor Pete.

"What did Larissa have to say?" Pam asked. Jim was still turned away from her. At the sound of her voice, he stiffened. It was almost like he was angry.

_She remembered. Of course she remembered. _Jim turned around slowly, facing Pam. Facing the woman he loved. Why wouldn't he tell her? What was holding him back? Who else would listen as well as she did?

He didn't want to ruin their newly rekindled friendship. He didn't want to throw his burdens on her shoulders.

Jim opened his mouth. He was going to tell her. He was going to tell her everything.

But what could he say? How could he tell her?

_My sister is dead. _That was it. Julia hadn't just been another in-law. She had been a sister. His brother's _wife. _

Words, unspoken and ill-chosen, were swallowed back down with an irrepressible lump in Jim's throat. Instead, he let out a small noise, a cry for help, quickly masked by a clearing of his throat.

"Oh, Jim." Pam had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that Jim needed comforting. She reached out to his jacket, which he had shrugged on almost immediately after she had placed it around him. "Tell me why you're crying."

Crying. He was crying. Something clicked in Jim's mind. He was crying in front of _Pam. _Damn.

Jim's shaky hands felt their way to his pocket, and he grabbed his car keys frantically. He had to get home. He didn't want to be here any longer. Not here.

"Jim!"

"I can't." He held up his hands in surrender, his voice scratchy and strained. "I-I can't talk right now, Pam." He said her name so delicately, as if to preserve her innocence, not condemn her with his awful news.

"Tell me what's wrong." Pam insisted bravely, stepping forward slightly.

_"Pam." _He choked out, his voice tripping on a single syllable that caused his whole body to shiver, to ache and want and need and love. Jim tried to sound hasty, perhaps even stern, but he came out sounding more resigned than anything.

"Okay." Pam whispered after some hesitation. "Okay. Go."

Jim snapped into action, heading over to his car and unlocking it. He was so close to a comfortable seat. That's all he needed.

"Be safe." Jim heard Pam's words from behind as he began to back out. As he drove away.

That's what he was doing, anyway. He was running away.


	5. Spying

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter five

* * *

"All people are your relatives; therefore expect only trouble from them"

~Chinese Proverb

"Three…two…four…one…happy Wednesday!" Michael Scott hopped down from a chair next to Pam's desk, greeting his employees on the cold morning. "All right!"

Michael was greeted by a skew of tired, unresponsive faces. Creed was asleep in the far corner of the room. Oscar and Angela were speaking softly, yet adamantly to each other, and Jim's desk was empty.

Wait a minute.

"Michael!" Dwight exclaimed. _"Michael!" _

Sighing, Michael turned towards his salesman, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Jim's gone." Dwight spoke quickly, overcome with excitement that his so-called _enemy_ was finally going to get in trouble. "He's _late._ You should fire him."

"Jimbo!" Michael frowned. "Where could he be? Pam?" He turned towards the secretary expectantly, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking ahead, to the doorway, where a bedraggled Jim walked into Dunder Mifflin.

"Jim," Pam whispered, trying to muster up some sort of greeting. Whatever had happened last night had had a profound effect on Jim. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale. There seemed to be a drag in his step, like he was trying to prolong the present and stick with the past.

At the sound of his name, Jim looked up at Pam, as if registering who had spoken to him. He didn't return the greeting. He tried, but he couldn't.

"Michael," Pam's eyes did not leave Jim. "He's here."

"Jim?" Michael rounded the corner, and when he saw the tall man, he threw his arms around him. "We thought you had _died!" _He moaned dramatically. Jim stiffened, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. Angela and Oscar glanced at each other suspiciously for a moment before delving into their own theories for Jim's demise.

"So, what was it, man?" Michael leaned closer still to Jim. "The old alarm didn't go off? Roommate left you hanging?"

"Uh, can I—can I talk to you about that later?" Jim asked softly. "I just want to get to work."

"I like that attitude." Michael grinned, giving Jim a little push towards his desk. Dwight sat glowering at him from his own desk.

"You're not getting away with this." Dwight leaned forward and whispered menacingly.

"Not today, Dwight."

* * *

Pam set down her lunch box, unscrewing the cap to her water bottle. She didn't want to sit down yet. She didn't want to eat alone. The other employees were already deep in conversation, talking about sports, the weather, politics, _anything_.

Their table was empty. Jim and Pam's table. It was empty. Pam sighed, her brows furrowed. She wished Jim would just tell her what was going on. She felt so isolated. They always talked to each other.

Well, that wasn't true. It was no lie that they had had their ups and downs. Pam had pushed him away after their unspoken, interrupted kiss. After Roy left her. She blamed Jim, of course, but she mostly blamed herself. She had been heartless towards him, ignoring his every plea. She had wanted him to hurt as much as he had hurt her.

But what was the point? She had wanted that kiss as much as Jim had—if not more, and when his lips finally pressed against hers, she had never felt more _alive_.

"Pam," Chris, a cameraman, beckoned her to come with him. "I've got a question for you."

She sighed, trudging after him. She knew what this was about. Jim.

"Chris," she took the microphone in his outstretched hand and clipped it to the front of her shirt before taking a seat in the conference room. "I know what this is about."

"Good," he pushed his shaggy, blonde hair out of his face. "'Cause he's not answering us." The camera was already on, and they were just talking, now. Chris was just trying to clear up the murky cloud surrounding Jim Halpert.

"He's not talking to you?" Pam repeated cautiously.

"Nope. Not one word." Chris returned, leaning back in his own chair. He gently steered his camera's angle with a lazy hand. "He looks like shit."

"Something happened," Pam tucked some hair behind her ear, shrugging helplessly. "Something happened last night at Phyllis's party."

"We had cameramen there. They didn't catch Jim leaving?"

"He was answering a phone call." Pam explained. "I don't know who call—oh." Pam suddenly remembered. "His sister called him."

"Is that odd?" Chris frowned.

"They hardly ever talk." Pam verified. "I guess she had something important to say."

"Do you know why she called?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Pam didn't like spilling Jim's secrets to the world, even if she only knew a little of the truth. "We've only just…I mean-"

"You're talking again."

"Yeah." Pam took in a deep breath. Her stomach growled accordingly. Flushing, Pam looked down. She tucked some more curls behind her ear. They kept falling in her face.

"All right, Pam." Chris sighed resignedly. "Go eat your freaking lunch. Well get to the bottom of this Jim-thing some other way."

"Sorry I can't help." Pam smiled apologetically, taking off her microphone. "I wish I knew, too."

"Yeah, yeah." Chris looked frustrated. He was probably still mad that the camera crew he managed didn't capture Jim's phone call outside of the buffet.

Pam hesitated at the doorway, trying to muster up some sort of helpful words for Christopher, but when she couldn't think of anything, she left.

Everyone else was still in the break room. The office itself was quite empty. Especially Jim's desk. Pam walked up to it with a frown, gently running her hands across the wood. Her fingers danced along progress reports and spare pens, and sporadic Post-It notes. _Call client. Call up on paper sale. Saturday: Mrs. Meckie needs paper for her company. Talk to warehouse. _

_570-342-8345_

Pam frowned, picking up the last Post-It. It was recently written, the pen discarded next to it. Jim had stuck the number on his phone. Something about the number caught Pam's attention. Jim's handwriting, usually neat, had scrawled out the numbers hastily.

She had to know.

Taking one of Dwight's ballpoint pens, Pam wrote the number on her palm. _(570)342-8345. _Perhaps this was why Jim was gone. Perhaps this was Larissa's number. Or a girl. Maybe this was a girl's number.

No. Why would Pam even think that? Why would Jim be so distraught over a _girl_? He didn't seem like the type.

Heading over to her own desk, Pam sat down slowly in her chair. She quickly dialed the number, afraid she might get caught. She felt a little sneaky, like she was some sort of James-Bond-like spy.

Is that what she was doing? Was she spying on Jim?

The phone kept ringing.

Pam settled into her chair, letting a worried hand rest on her forehead, her elbow on the desk.

"Kearney Funeral Homes, how may we assist you this afternoon?"

Pam had never hung up the phone so quickly in her life.


	6. Secrets Told

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter six

* * *

"When I do something in my family because I really enjoy it, then my duty has become my pleasure. And it is a pleasure for all the people around me"  
~Dr. Jess Lair

Pam's mind was rushing with countless theories and questions. The phone call Jim received last night? How he was acting? And now, he had the number of a funeral home on his desk?

Someone had died. That had to be it. Someone must have died. But who? A relative? And why would he be the one to make the funeral arrangements?

Is that why he was gone, now? Was he making the arrangements?

Pam put her head in her hands, trying desperately to clear her mind. _Think_, she told herself, _when did you last talk with Jim about family? _

They had talked about his siblings and their children, but not about his parents. They had talked about brothers, but Larissa Halpert, Jim's sister, was mentioned only briefly. And then she had called and assumingly changed everything.

With a desperately optimistic thought, Pam figured Jim was selling paper to a funeral home. Just another funeral home in Pennsylvania. No matter at all. There was no reason to be worried.

The door to Dunder Mifflin creaked open with a resounding entrance. Pam wrote yet another note about WD-40 to give to the maintenance man, and then looked up.

Jim Halpert slipped off his gloves, his body relaxing slightly as he entered the heated room. The first person he saw was Pam, her concerned eyes catching his. He paused for a moment, pretending to look down at something. Truth was, he didn't want to look at Pam, the one person who could see right through him, the one person who knew how miserable he was feeling just by looking into his eyes.

Shrugging off his jacket, Jim ignored his gut a braved a smile at the receptionist—_his_ receptionist. Well, he wished. Pam caught his smile and returned it.

"Hey," he whispered softly.

"Getting your hands dirty during lunch break?" Pam asked mischievously, trying her best to distract Jim the best she could, even if she had no idea what was going on.

"Nope," Jim chuckled, shaking his head. He held up his hands for good measure. They were spotless, if not a little pink from the cold. "Squeaky clean. How 'bout you?"

"No dirt here." Pam held up her own hands, palms facing Jim. It was almost like she was surrendering.

Jim's smile faded as he saw the numbers scrawled onto her palm. He couldn't decipher if he were angry, concerned, or relieved. Angry that Pam had violated his privacy. Concerned that something had happened to her family. Relieved he didn't have to tell her about Julia, Pete, or Elijah.

"Why would you need to call that number?" His voice came out dull and lifeless.

Confusion flickered across Pam's face before reality set in. She lowered her hands immediately, but it was no use. She had been caught.

_Jim, please don't be angry. _"I was worried about you." Pam whispered, looking down. She brushed some light brown curls out of her face.

"About me?" Jim repeated faintly.

"You were acting so strangely last night, and when I saw the number on the desk I thought…I dialed it, Jim." Pam took in a deep breath. "But I hung up. As soon as the…_home _answered I hung up. I'm sorry." Her eyes were pleading, once they finally reached his gaze. All the spite left Jim's bones. Her honesty was humbling and surprising. He loved her so much.

Did he really have the right to be angry with her? If anyone should be cross with anyone, it would Pam. He had ruined her relationship, after all, with one kiss. That was all it took.

It had only taken one crash to kill Julia.

"Uh," Jim took in a deep breath, looking around the nearly-empty office for a moment before returning to Pam. "I went out."

"Yeah." Pam rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I got that."

"Yeah," Jim repeated with a nervous laugh. "I, uh, well, last night-"

_Ring! _

Jim scrambled for his phone. He thought it had frozen in his coat pocket or something, but, somehow, it was still ringing.

Just like last night. Just like when Julia had died.

With another, incessant thought, Jim's hands began to quake. He held the phone between his two palms, his fingers curled around the cold object. It kept ringing.

_Something happened. Someone else died. Mom. Dad. Pete. Pete couldn't handle Julia's death. Elijah ran away. Elijah ran away and got killed._

"Jim," her voice brought Jim back to the real world, back to the office, back to Pam. Pam's hands came up to wrap around his, gently slipping the phone into her own grasp.

He averted his gaze, eyes glued to the clear coating of Pam's nail polish as she peered at his cell phone.

"It's Tom." Pam bit her lip. "Don't you-?"

"I can't." Jim interrupted quickly, his voice barely above an earnest whisper.

"Okay." Pam nodded, flipping open the phone.

Jim hadn't expected that. Oh, she was actually _answering _the phone. To talk to his older brother. She would hear the news first. Someone else had died. Something else had to have happened. And Pam would have to tell him. He peeled himself away from the receptionist's desk, pacing with no real purpose but to distract himself.

"Pam Beesly speaking."

"What?" Tom Halpert quickly cleared his throat, his voice coming out higher than when Pam last heard it. However, he returned to his normal octave after slight hesitation. Had he been crying? "Oh. Uh, hi."

"Hi." Pam returned awkwardly, not sure what to say. She watched Jim walk back and forth with large, incessant steps.

"Uh, yeah, you're Jim's friend, right? He's talked about you before." Tom continued. "Uh, is Jim busy or something? If he is, can you just tell him that her funeral arrangements have been made. According to Pete, the visitation is Thursday, and the funeral is Friday."

"Thank you, Tom." Pam nodded to herself, scribbling down the dates on a pad of paper.

"Yeah, no problem. This is the least I can do, anyway." Tom sighed long and low.

"And I'll make sure to tell Jim what's going on." Pam tried not to sound too much like a receptionist, and more like a friend. A friend to a friend's brother.

"Right."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Pam added thoughtfully. She wanted to be vague. Jim was just about to tell her what was going on, and he wanted to hear the explanation from him.

"Yeah." Tom cleared his throat again. "So am I. Tell Jim that he's not off the hook, here. I'll talk to him sometime later tonight. Nice speaking with you, Pam."

"You too." Pam whispered, smiling. She always enjoyed being around Tom and Pete, who usually managed to pull some sort of embarrassing prank on Jim. Well, she had only met them a few times, when they dropped off Jim after lunch or when they conspired with Dwight to pull a big prank on their youngest brother.

Biting her lip, Pam glanced over at Jim, who had slumped down in a chair, his head in his hands. His elbows rested on his desk. Getting up, Pam gently patted his shoulder. She pulled up a chair and handed him his phone back.

"The visitation is Thursday," Pam spoke softly when Jim slipped his phone into his pocket, sniffing. "The funeral is the next day."

Jim nodded vaguely, feeling numb. What could he say? What could he do?

"Jim, I still…I still don't really know what's going on." Pam tried next, cocking her head slightly. Jim glanced at her briefly before looking down again. "Do…do you want to talk about it?"

He let out a breathy laugh, groaning. Of course. Of _course _he wanted to talk to her. He just didn't know if he could say what he had to say without…well, getting emotional.

Pam reached out and took his limp hand, squeezing supportively. Jim took in a deep breath, his fingers curling around hers.

"My sister-in-law passed away."

Pam sat back, pulling Jim with her as their fingers remained intertwined. She ran her free hand along the back of her neck.

"P-Pete's wife. Julia. She was in a car accident." Jim was looking down, gently stroking the back of Pam's hand with a weary thumb.

"What about Elijah?" Pam whispered. She had remembered. Of course she had.

"I don't know." Jim shrugged helplessly. "I haven't seen him…I…I haven't seen Pete, either."

A silence fell over the two, surrounding them, cascading across their conjoined hands. Jim dared not look at Pam. Pam tried to think of something to say. He shut his eyes in defeat.

"I'm so sorry, Jim."

His eyes slipped open at her voice. He finally looked over.

A single tear slid down Pam's porcelain cheek, trailing her skin until it fell and landed on her blouse.

Reaching out, Jim wiped the small drop of water from the collar of her shirt. His fingers danced against the hollow of her neck as he removed any trace of tears. Her compassion awed him. She did not know his family, and here she was, crying for them. For Pete.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered, almost as if he were pleading with her to stop. "You don't know Pete or Elijah."

"I know _you,"_ Pam protested gently.

Jim froze, his hands falling limply to his side. Seconds later, the clock turned to a new hour, and people began to trickle into the office.


	7. The Dangerous Kiss

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter seven

* * *

"People are pretty forgiving when it comes to other people's families. The only family that ever horrifies you is your own"  
~Doug Coupland

"_Jim?" Pam turned around, her eyebrows knit together. "Jim?" _

"_Hey," Jim nodded at her, his hands wrapped around a small box in his hands. "You look great." _

"_I didn't think you would come!" Pam rushed to greet her best friend, pulling him into an appreciative hug. Jim's hands pulled her close immediately, his body reacting to their touch. Too close. Pam hesitantly pulled back, confused at his actions. _

"_I came late." Jim explained, trying to quickly mask his desire with frantic words. "I…I just wanted to make sure you were having a good time." _

"_At my engagement party?" Pam laughed, her eyes twinkling. She swatted lightly at his shoulder. _

_Jim gave her a pleading look. _

"_No, of course I'm having fun." Pam protested, if not half-heartedly. "Now that you're here." _

"_I wouldn't be anywhere else." Jim answered, smiling. He wished she knew how much he was hurting. _

_Pam slipped off her coat and laid it on the table next to her in the large dining hall. The lights had dimmed, the people had dispersed. They were alone. Jim soaked in her fitting dress, her breathtaking smile, her staggering aroma. _

"_Where's Roy?" He cleared his throat. _

"_Uh, he left to go out with some of his friends." Pam explained. _

"_Good." Jim answered quickly. "Uh, well, I mean, I didn't get him a gift." _

"_A gift?" Pam's eyes lit up. "Jim-"_

"_It's the least I can do." Jim handed her the small, wrapped box. She eagerly tore at the bow before stopping. _

"_My sister got me lingerie." She eyes him mischievously. "Roy was so happy he-"_

"_Just open it, Pam." _

"_All right, all right." Pam rolled her eyes. "Just thought I'd tell you." _

"_Why would I want to know that?" Jim muttered bitterly. _

_Pam finished unwrapping the box and set it down. "Because, friends tell each other things." She paused. "And we're friends." _

"_Yeah." Jim nodded apologetically. "Yeah, we are." _

_Smiling tenderly, Pam opened the box. _

"_Jim." She whispered his name in shock. Reaching into the box, she pulled out a necklace. A stunning silver, the necklace held but one charm. A heart. _

"_Congratulations on your engagement, Pam." Jim spoke, staring at the necklace just as she did. It was a declaration of his love. "I hope-"_

"_It's perfect," Pam whispered. "Oh, Jim. I love it. Can you help me put it on?" _

"_What?" Jim swallowed hard, stammering. "Oh. Of course." his hands came up to find the delicate chain, pressing the necklace against his fingers as he unclasped it. He was glad Pam liked the necklace—his sister-in-laws had helped him pick it out. _

_She turned her back to him, brushing her hair out of the way until the back of her neck was visible. With shaking fingers, Jim placed the necklace around her neck. His hands brushed her shoulder, dancing smoothly along her skin until both his hands could reach the clasp of her necklace. He connected the necklace. _

_When she turned around, Jim's breath caught in his throat. There she was. Wearing his necklace. His gift to her that no one else could give. She couldn't have him, so he would give her a piece of him. _

"_I love it." Pam touched the charm with a gentle finger. "It's perfect." _

"_You're perfect." Jim found himself saying. _

_Pam flushed. "Jim-"_

"_No, Pam, listen to me-" Jim stopped when he noticed it. Her engagement ring. A simple, painful reminder of what wasn't his. He had to face the facts. Pam was taken. _

_No. _

_He would not allow this. He couldn't. _

"_I really do love the necklace, Jim." Pam whispered. _

"_I-I love _you."_ Jim broke free. With desperate, ecstatic hands, he grabbed her cheeks, pressing his lips hungrily to hers. Their first kiss. _

_Her lips were so soft, so perfect, everything he had dreamed of. Everything he had longed for. Oh, he had _longed _for this. _

_His hands kneaded small circles into her precious skin. His lips connected again and again with hers. His eyes had long since slipped shut, blocking out the world around him. _

_And Pam, was she reciprocating? She hardly moved. She was frozen. Jim didn't know if he was worried or not, but the fire burning inside of him burned away his feelings until all he felt was a strong desire and overpowering love. _

_His hands dropped lower. To her shoulders. He rubbed her shoulders. His lips stayed in place as he pressed himself closer to her warmth. The tip of his tongue grazed her lower lip. Would she allow entrance? Would she let their kiss escalate? _

_With slow, hesitant movements, her lips parted. Jim let out an anguished cry, somewhere between relief and need. _

_Pam was alive suddenly, her body pressed close to Jim. His hands fell to her waist. They leaned back together, locked in their indefinite embrace. Her hands raked through his shaggy hair before reaching the back of his neck. She sent shivers down his spine. She always did. _

_He wanted to kiss her neck; he wanted to bury his face in the aroma of her hair. He wanted his hands to go lower, lower, lower. _

_He did not move. He was too afraid to remove his lips from hers. He was afraid of what would happen when they stopped kissing. _

_Something cold pressed against his neck, painfully noticeable. Pam's engagement ring. _

_Jim's kisses slowed. What a fool he was. _

_Letting out a small whimper, Pam tried to rejuvenate Jim, but it was no use. His hands slackened their grip; their tongues stopped their exotic waltz. His lips pressed together for the final time. _

_His eyes slipped open. He was back to being vulnerable. _

"_P-please, no." Pam pleaded, her lips gently beginning to kiss his neck. The words caught in Jim's throat. His hands fluttered next to him, torn between grasping and pushing. _

"_I love you so much, Pam." Jim's voice cracked as Pam's lips trailed up to his jaw line. "Just tell me you love me." He swallowed hard. "Tell me you love me, and I'll let you be. I'll let you be happy. Married. Just let me know I'm not the only one, here." _

_She pressed her forehead to his cheek. She let out a shaky breath. Her ring glinted in the dim lighting of the dining hall. _

"_Pam," he begged. "Please. I can't do this alone anymore." _

_She shook her head slowly. Hesitantly. Painfully. "I c-can't." _

"_I know," Jim whispered, unable to press down the growing lump in his throat. "I know, Pam." He pressed his lips to her forehead. Seconds later, he found himself inevitably angling toward her. She kissed his nose tenderly before moving to his lips once more. Just for good measure. Just so he would know that she did care. Just because she wanted to. _

_His touches were so lifeless now. His lips did not keep up with her pace. He made no noises. His eyes slipped shut because of his own agony, not his desire. He was done. _

"_I knew it! Damn it, I _knew_ something was going on between you two!" _

_They froze. The lights turned on. Jim didn't even have to say his name to know who had caught them. _

_Very slowly, he pulled back. He let go. He watched as Pam looked about frantically, desperately trying to conjure up some sort of lie. _

_He did not move. He did not feel anything. _

_He hadn't felt anything since. _


	8. The Roommate

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter eight

* * *

"It is extraordinary that when you are acquainted with a whole family you can forget about them"  
~Gertrude Stein

"All right, man, no more stalling." Jim's roommate, Mark, handed him a cold beer before joining him on the couch. Jim dully watched the small television in front of him, one hand curled around the slim bottle while the other grazed his chin dully.

"Hmm?" Jim looked up, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Dude," Mark sighed. "Are you even _watching_?"

"Sure I am." Jim made a point of fingering the remote that lain next to him on the cushion. "Gators are winning."

"Uh-huh." Mark rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"What's up with you?" Jim grumbled.

"What's up with me? What's up with you?" Mark returned. "You're acting…different."

"I'm fine." Jim took a sip of beer.

"Yeah but this is March Madness, man. You go crazy for March Madness."

"I do not go crazy."

"Whatever, man. Not my problem." Mark got up. He was a twitchy sort of guy, never sitting still for long. He always told Jim he had better things to do then lay around and do nothing. Jim watched him pace around dully. He took another sip of beer.

"Aw sh—man, I forgot." Mark suddenly stopped his manic walking. "The visitation's tomorrow."

Jim was silent.

"Jim, man, I thought today was _Tuesday_, dammit."

Jim shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't matter." He took another swig of beer.

"Whatever, man, you know it does. You going alone?" Mark came closer to the television again. Jim was half convinced he just wanted to check the score of the game.

"To the visitation, yeah." Jim muttered.

"Oh. Okay."

"But not the funeral."

"Oh. Okay." Mark repeated, only partially listening by that point. "That's cool."

"Yeah." Jim drummed his fingers along his cheek. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

"I asked Pam to come."

"Whoa what?"Mark whipped around to face his roommate, eyes wide. "Dude!"

"Calm down, man." Jim flushed. "It's not a freaking date—it's a _funeral_."

"Who cares?" Mark threw up his hands. "You asked and she said _yes_. Why didn't you tell me, man?"

"You never asked!"

"How was I supposed to know?"

"All right, all right, all right." Jim sat up. "Listen: she just wanted to know if she could do anything to help. I didn't…I didn't really want to say anything…but I just _did_."

"Sure."

"Julia was family, man." Jim sighed, running a tired hand along his face. "She was family."

"Told you she'd come around." Mark laughed smugly, speaking about Pam again. "When you two stop fighting?"

"We weren't fighting." Jim defended himself, if not a little immaturely. "We just-"

"Weren't talking, I get it."

"Yeah." Jim shifted uncomfortably. "I never-" he paused, running a hand along his cheek, "well, nevermind."

"No, man, what's on your mind?" Mark frowned.

"Nothing. Forget about it."

_I never knew how much I needed Pam until now. _

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's nothing."

_I always knew how much I loved her, though. Always._

* * *

"Well, it's a wonderful Thursday morning here in Scranton, Pennsylvania, just rounding around eight o'clock-"

Jim rolled over on his side, shutting off his incessant alarm clock. _Eight o'clock_, he sighed, _too early_.

For all intensive purposes, Jim would have liked nothing more than to sleep through the day, to stay in bed until night came once more, until Julia's visitation ended. But it was no use; he didn't sleep a wink last night. He couldn't. Not when he was so apprehensive about this visitation. One little visitation that was sending him into a frenzy.

To face the facts, Jim had no idea how to act at this funeral. He hadn't seen Pete or Elijah since the accident, or anyone else in his family, for that matter. He didn't know how his parents would feel—they had loved Julia so much, like another daughter. Like the daughter that was actually there. And Julia's parents were always an issue. They were wonderful people, naturally, but Jim had only met them a handful of times and their names always seemed to slip through his provincial memory.

Worst of all, Jim realized with a jaded sigh, was that Pam wouldn't be with him today. She was only coming to the funeral. Only because he asked her to.

His phone lay discarded on his nightstand—he unplugged the device and flipped it open. No new voicemails. Nothing had happened since the last time he checked his phone. The Halperts were safe so far as he knew.

That also meant Michael Scott hadn't called him back. Jim had tried last night to get a hold of his boss, but Michael did not answer his call. Jim had left a message, stating that he would try to return to work after the visitation.

Pam would have berated him if she had heard him make that call. Work after a visitation? No way. Not in her book. He needed time to 'reflect and process', some crap like that that made no sense to him. No amount of time off work would resonate with him. He was locked into some sort of mode now, with Julia gone; he would work until there was no work to be done. He would work for her sake, for Pete and Elijah's sake. Work was the only way he knew how to support his family. The only way he knew how to react.

Jim glanced over at his clock again—8:05. Time never flew with him. Time stayed still and waited for him to move. He took the hint and tumbled out of bed.

Perhaps if he took too long picking out the right shirt to go with his suit he would miss the visitation entirely. Perhaps if he starting driving and took a wrong turn in the middle of nowhere he would miss the visitation. The ideas ran through his mind, tempting and taunting him. _Just don't go_.

He had to go. He had to. This was his family. This was his responsibility.


	9. Faint Questions

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter nine

* * *

"Family jokes, though rightly cursed by strangers, are the bond that keeps most families alive"  
~Stella Benson

"Good morning, Pam." Angela's stiff voice broke through the calm, cool morning to her coworker. She sounded insincere.

"Angela," Pam turned around to face the petite blonde. She kept one hand on the door into Dunder Mifflin, and the other in her coat. "You're here early."

"Well," Angela hurried up to slip in the door before Pam. "I wanted to get the real information on Jim Halpert. Isn't that why you're here?"

"I always come early to work—what are you talking about, the _real _information?" Pam stopped cold.

"Oh please, Pam, don't act so naïve. Everyone knows the two of you are practically dating-" Angela held up a hand to Pam's protest, silencing the secretary. "-you two are always together, he's had to have told you _something._"

"It's not really your business, Angela." Pam muttered.

"So, you are dating him?"

"No."

"Then it's not your business, either."

"I'm a friend." Pam protested.

"Please," Angela rolled her eyes. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He's been in love with you since the first time he laid eyes on you."

Pam spotted a cameraman hiding behind a vending machine, his camera in plain sight. Of course, the camera crew that never slept was back and rolling, capturing every moment in she and Jim's epic saga.

"Jim will be here." Pam reassured Angela while shuffling towards the elevator, although she was unsure herself. "Maybe, since you're so interested, you can ask him then."

"Oh, I will." Angela walked into the open doors of the elevator. "But I'd much rather hear it from you."

* * *

Michael Scott spotted Pam, his secretary, and Angela Martin, an accountant, as the walked into the bright office. Pam seemed a little agitated.

"Let's get Pam in here." Rocco, a cameraman, took his camera off of his shoulder with a relieved sigh. "You should ask her about Jim."

"Why?" Michael frowned, staring at an array of marbles on his desk. He was trying to figure out which marble fit which employee. "Jim's only told me."

"That you know of." Rocco pressed.

"Hey, Jim and I have a strict bro code." Michael protested, looking up quickly. "Bros before hos. He would share things with Pam."

"So Pam's a ho?" Rocco raised his eyebrows.

"You know what I meant." Michael stood up and waved excitedly at Pam. Rocco rose, as well, and gestured for Pam to enter the room.

"Bet you anything she knows about Jim." Rocco muttered under his breath. Michael pretended not to listen.

"Good morning." Pam slipped into the doors, taking note of the way Michael nervously glanced at the cameraman, who looked mischievous himself.

"Hey," Rocco ran a hand through his ginger mane. "Do you know how long Jim will be at this visitation?"

Pam was so sidelined by the questioned she stopped cold. How did they know such a thing? Jim hadn't told anyone but her, and even if he _had _told someone, it certainly wouldn't have been someone as shallow as Rocco Solls, who was always pressing 'record' at the most private of times. He always wanted to capture _everything_.

"Jim told me what's going on, Pammy." Michael looked uncomfortable. He just knew he would lose his bet to Rocco, now. Not that he ever agreed to the bet. "Ah!" he sighed, throwing his hands up. "Jimbo asked me for the morning off, okay?"

"The morning off?" Pam repeated dumbly, frowning. "He can't possibly think of returning to work-"

"Did he say something to you?" Rocco asked. "We—_I _figured you'd know."

"Did Angela set you up for this?" Pam asked suspiciously.

"Angela?" Michael frowned.

"Why? Does she know something?" Rocco retuned.

"It's not really your business!" Pam exclaimed. She threw her hands up in frustration. What was the point? Rocco's camera was at the ready. At any moment he would turn it on and slink back into silence, waiting for Michael to regurgitate the questions he meant to ask. Either way, she would have to answer the question at some point.

"Okay," Pam took a seat in front of Michael's desk, slipping on her microphone and turning it on. Rocco slid behind his camera and pressed the record button. Michael sat down as well, ready to be filmed once more.

"Jim's sister-in-law passed away in a car accident." Pam explained, not wanting to waste time on formalities. She didn't want Jim back at work, not so soon after the visitation. She would have to call him—hopefully she could catch him before the visitation started. "She left behind a mourning husband and young son. That's it."

Michael nodded sadly. Rocco fumed behind the camera at the lack of consistency that conversation was built on. Pam rose quickly, sharply turning around and opening the door.

"Ow! Dammit, Pam, watch where you open that door!" Dwight howled, grabbing his toe and hopping around awkwardly. He, along with most of the office, had been listening in on the conversation

"I was right!" Angela cheered, turning around to give a toothy grin to Oscar.

"Well, you win this time." Stanley grumbled unappreciatively, flipping open his wallet and handing the eager Phyllis five dollars.

Flustered, Pam tried to ignore them, walking hurriedly towards her desk.

"When's the funeral, Pam?" Phyllis asked, folding up the money and slipping it in her bra.

Pam stopped, slipping her eyes shut. Was there even a point of keeping the secret anymore?

"Friday." She answered stiffly. "Jim asked me to come with him. We'll both be gone."

"Ah." Oscar raised his eyebrows. He and Angela shared a knowing glance.

"Only for support!" Pam reassured them hastily, her cheeks turning crimson.

"Uh-huh." Stanley nodded, holding out his palm to Phyllis. She slapped a five dollar bill on his hand—he won that bet.

Dwight, for his part, took a seat at his desk, silently brooding and wondering how he could take advantage of Jim's temporary absence and use it towards his advantage.

* * *

He arrived early—too early. Jim sighed loudly as he soundly placed his car into park. _Try to take it slow and end up being a half an hour early…nice one, Halpert. _

Part of him wanted to stay into his car for the remaining time he was allowed to waste, but he knew that idea was no good. The heat in the vehicle would eventually die away and he would be alone, sad, and cold.

Kind of like a dead body.

Jim jolted out of the car. No. He wasn't going to be like a dead body. Why was he thinking such horrible thoughts? He adjusted his coat, taking a few steady steps away from his vehicle before shutting the door. He needed to calm down. He needed to _relax_.

Taking a moment to slip his eyes shut, Jim let his wringing hands fall to his side. _Calm. C'mon, just calm down, Halpert. Peace like a river and all that crap. _

"Jim,"

His eyes stayed shut. He recognized the voice, how could he not? However, he did nothing to acknowledge the presence.

_How did that song go? I've got peace like a river-_

"Jim?"

_Just be calm. Be normal. Do this for Pete. Does this for Elijah. _

_Do this for Julia. _

"Hey, Jim! _Jim!"_


	10. The Nephew

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter ten

* * *

"I can't help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves"  
~Oscar Wilde

Strong, capable hands roughly pulled Jim back into reality. With a painstakingly real jolt, Jim's eyes flew open. Tom Halpert held on tightly to his brother, eyebrows furrowed.

"Jim, dammit, man, you can't do that." Tom, once seeing that his brother was awake, let go of him and walked further away, running his hands through his hair. Jim put his head in his hands, trying to gather his surroundings. What had happened? One moment he had been leaving his car, and the next he was on the ground? And Tom, how did he find him? Had Tom pranked him or something?

Jim glanced at his older brother. Tom had turned his back away from Jim. He stood with his hands on his hips. His broad shoulders were hunched forward. His hair, cropped as it was, was messy and frazzled. Memories coursed through Jim's veins but he repressed them, shaking his head. He slowly stood.

"I fainted." Jim said dumbly, as if to clear any bad air.

"Thanks for the insight, Einstein." Tom turned around, rolling his eyes. Jim was relieved that Tom was back to acting like he used to, with an easygoing spirit and carefree attitude.

"Sorry about that," Jim stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and looked sheepishly at his older brother.

"Don't apologize, man." Tom said quickly. "I've heard enough sorrow today."

"Yeah," Jim looked down, kicking a rock absently with a shiny, black shoe. "How's Pete?"

"How do you think?" Tom shrugged helplessly. "C'mon, let's head in."

The church was much larger than Jim had expected. As the brothers entered the immaculate sanctuary, Jim paused to take in the pipe organ and stained glass. Julia must have loved this place very much. Jim shivered involuntarily.

"Yeah, it's cold in here." Tom spoke more to himself than to his younger brother. "Pete said he didn't want the sanctuary any warmer."

"He said that?" Jim asked, but Tom wasn't listening anymore. Isabella, his wife, was heading towards them.

"No change," Isabella whispered before kissing her husband's cheek tenderly. Tom's shoulders slumped. Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, Jim, I'm glad you're here." Isabella pulled her brother-in-law in for a hug. "How are you?"

"How's Pete?" Jim ignored the question, pulling back.

"Well," Isabella tucked a few light, blonde strands of hair behind her ear with a shrug. "He hasn't really said much since Tom and I arrived."

"He's like a blank slate." Tom sighed, agitated. "I'm not sure what's going on in his head."

Jim peered past his brother and sister-in-law. Pete was standing at the far end of the room, his back to everyone else. He stared at the closed casket in front of him, his shoulders hunched invariably and head bowed.

"Perhaps you can get something out of him, Jim." Isabella suggested, holding on to her husband's arm as she spoke. Tom let her, standing very protectively next to his wife. Tom was always protective.

"Yeah…sure." Jim wasn't sure what to say. He was the youngest of the Halpert siblings—if Tom couldn't faze Pete, then-

"Where's Larissa?"

"Please," Tom scoffed, pursing his lips together. "You think she'd come down for this?"

"Yes." Jim answered. He was sure his eldest sibling would pause her busybody life to attend the memorial service of her own family. Jim looked around the church. Larissa was nowhere to be found.

"Don't act surprised, man." Tom wasn't going to defend his negligent sister. "She doesn't have time for us."

"This doesn't make sense," Jim protested. "She's the one that called me in the first place. She was the one who told me about Julia. Why isn't she here?"

"Well, you know her, Jim," Isabella put in sweetly. "She might have something to do."

"Bell…" Tom shook his head. Jim took that as his cue to leave. Pete looked so alone up there.

Jim's stride was slow. He tried to speed up, to reach Pete faster, but something kept holding him back. Fear, perhaps. Uncertainty. Hesitation.

Pete, for his part, stood stock still, his hands clutching the casket with white knuckles. When Jim finally reached his brother, it was if something clicked for Pete. His hands fell limp to his side, his knees buckled, and he faltered.

With swift arms, Jim caught his brother before he fell. Just like Tom had done with him.

"It's okay, it's okay, Pete. It's me. It's Jim."

Pete instantly relaxed, turning around and pulling his brother into his arms. Jim gathered his brother in his arms, mixing back pats with unintelligent words filled with soft comfort. Pete's sobbed quietly, masked by his brother's shoulders and height.

Suddenly, as if a light switch had turned from 'on' to 'off', Pete was pushing Jim away, harshly at that. His red eyes were ablaze with fury, his hands balled into fists. Jim stepped back in shock. What had he done?

"I don't want your damn sympathy." Pete's voice was stern and quiet. Jim hated when Pete was quiet. He wished he would just yell at him. "Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Got it?"

Jim blinked a few times, unsure of how to react or what to say. He nodded dumbly, just like Pete wanted him to, before turning around awkwardly.

He came face to face with Elijah Halpert.

The young boy's knees were drawn up to his chest as he sat in the front pew of the sanctuary. He wore a Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap low on his head, locks of his light, brown hair stuck out underneath the hat.

Why was he alone? Why wasn't his father comforting him? Jim stood in the middle between the two. Both were shadowed by grief. Both were shivering. Both were wiping tears from their eyes. Who would Jim go to?

He found himself heading towards the pew. He took a seat next to his nephew. Neither one said anything for a while. Elijah kept trembling. Silently, Jim slipped off his coat and placed it around his young nephew's shoulders. Elijah disappeared in the tall jacket for a moment, sinking into the warmth. Slowly, however, he pushed his hands through the sleeves and poked his head out of the collar. His eyes came to rest on his uncle. His lower lip quivered. He tried to speak to his uncle, but his words came out like an odd hiccup, and, suddenly, Elijah was breaking down.

"Hey, no, no, Eli." Jim wrapped his arms around his nephew and pulled him against his side. "I'm here. I'm here. It's going to be okay. I'm here." Jim kept repeating that, because he knew Pete was somewhere else entirely.


	11. Waiting for Jim

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter eleven

* * *

"Parents need all the help they can get. The strongest as well as the most fragile family requires a vital network of social supports"  
~Bernice Weissbourd

The visitation droned on, like a never-ending song or endless line. People filed in and out, shuffling through long segments of mourners and family members alike. They all seemed so foreign to Jim.

The pew he was occupying had since been filled. Elijah, still wearing Jim's tall coat, leaned against his grandmother, Betsy Halpert. Jim's mother. Next to her was Gerald, his father, who looked stony-eyed and stiff. He wasn't one for funerals or visitations of any sort; they contradicted his flippant attitude. Pete hadn't said much to his parents; just let them file past him like everyone else.

Eventually, Elijah would perk up when he recognized whoever was giving their condolences. Teachers, friends, and parents would head over to closest pew to the casket, where Pete's immediate family rested. Betsy would nudge Elijah, and he would smile softly at the griever, as if pretending to make his pain less noticeable. Jim stood as stiff as his father next to his nephew, rigid as a statue. He was just _waiting _for Pete to break down, just like he almost had before the visitation had even started.

"Hey, squirt." Gerald peered past his wife to see his grandson, who was slumped down. "Why don't you take off that cap? We're indoors."

Surrounding Pete were his in-laws. Jim wasn't even sure if he should refer to Julia's parents as Pete's in-laws anymore. Can you even be legally married to a dead woman? Jim repressed the insensitive thought.

"No, no, no! Give it back!" Elijah was suddenly screaming, and Jim was brought back to reality. The boy was hysterical, nearly climbing over his grandmother to grab the hat from his grandfather, who had since paled visibly. "My mom gave me that hat, give it back!"

Gerald's grip slackened immediately. It was if he had picked up a burning coal instead of a Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap.

"Ssh, Eli." Betsy pushed back some of Elijah's shaggy hair and kissed the top of his head. "Quiet down, baby."

Elijah recoiled, shying away from his grandparents and leaning towards Jim. Frowning, Jim lifted his arm slightly. Elijah took the cue and fit under his arm perfectly, burying his face in Jim's suit.

"Uncle Jim, please let me go home." Elijah whispered, his voice soft and pleading. "Please let this be over."

"Just a bit longer." Jim muttered softly. "I promise, you'll be out of here soon. We'll all go home, then."

* * *

Dwight Schrute sat at his desk, looking around disparagingly at his fellow employees. The office was mess; all worked up about stupid Jim Halpert and his emotional problems. What was the big deal? People died, the first-born inherited his bequeathed land, and time moved on.

Apparently, the rest of the office hadn't received the memo. The camera crew was interviewing Phyllis and Angela in the conference room about Jim, no doubt. Word had trickled through Dunder Mifflin like wild fire. It was only one in the afternoon, and people were acting like it was four. It made no sense to Dwight.

* * *

"Well, I think we should throw a party." Phyllis Lapin smiled sweetly at the camera as she sat in the conference room. "It would be nice for him."

"A party." Angela repeated emphatically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "You want to throw a party for Jim because someone _died?" _

Phyllis squirmed in her seat. "It might make him feel better, I don't know." She looked down. "Forget it."

* * *

"Personally, I'm deeply affected by this death." Creed looked over at Kevin Malone, nodding casually. "Pattie was a great receptionist. It's a shame."

"Yeah…" Kevin stared at the window. "That's too bad." His solitaire game stood immobilized on his computer. All the different cards ran through his head and made no sense to him. He exited out with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, what?" Oscar whirled around in his chair to face Creed, who's eyes were glazed over. _"Pam _didn't die!"

"Oh, yeah, she did. It was awful."

"No, Creed, she's right over there!" Oscar protested. "It was Jim's sister that died."

"You don't say…" Creed frowned, scratching the back of his neck absent-mindedly. "Are you sure Jim's sister doesn't work here?"

* * *

Pam was aware of the camera perched next to her desk, silently watching her every move and assuming her every thought. Unlike what appeared in their televised documentary, her life wasn't that eventful. She answered phone calls. She arranged, re-arranged, and sorted appointments. Her life was slow and jaded, whereas the Pam Beesly whose life was compressed in half-hour increments seemed to have her life in check, and knew exactly how to handle everything. Like Jim. Pam knew how to handle Jim.

Except she didn't. She was utterly and entirely worried about Jim, the one coworker she cared for the most.

The visitation must have run long. That's why Jim wasn't here. He was probably getting lunch with his family, or by himself, or-

Or maybe he was miserable, and needed to talk to someone, but just wouldn't admit his feelings.

_Just call him_, Pam urged herself. She knew she should have gone to the visitation with him as well. She couldn't bear knowing that Jim was wandering around alone with no one to talk to. The way he spoke of his family made Pam wonder sometimes. Were the brothers close, or did they just enjoy messing with one another? She tucked some hair behind her ear, eyebrows creased together in concentration.

When the door finally creaked open, slowly and carefully, the entire office looked up. It was if Dunder Mifflin had inhaled at the same time, and only the sight of Jim Halpert would allow them to exhale. Pam's fingers curled around the pencil in her hand, her knuckles turning white.

The first person Jim locked eyes with upon entering was Pam, and she was the last person he saw before being pummeled by an over-anxious Michael Scott.


	12. The Card

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twelve

* * *

**A/n: **Sorry about the long wait...I've had papers to work on for school. Hopefully, this story will be updated in a timely manner again!

* * *

"One of the things that binds us as a family is a shared sense of humor"  
~Ralph Fiennes

Jim set down his office phone, his hand wrapped around it. His last client to check up on the day that was quickly becoming night. His coat lay discarded on the floor near his chair—he hadn't bothered to hang it up. Angela gave him a dirty look for his clutter while she was leaving the office. In fact, he was alone in the large office.

Well, almost.

Smiling softly, Jim picked at the envelope on his desk. "To Mr. Halpert" was scrawled on the front in Michael's boyish penmanship. He all but thrust the envelope into his hand when Jim first returned, as if all his condolences had been liquidated into one card. The heading seemed a little formal to Jim, but he didn't say anything. Finally letting curiosity get the best of him, Jim dropped his pencil and grabbed the envelope with both hands, opening it quickly.

_On your special day_, the front of the card read. _Special day?_ Jim frowned, opening the pink card. _Wishing you all the happiness in the world. Congratulations. _Below the poorly picked card were signatures from all Jim's employees, even Dwight, who scrawled his words in capital letters.

_I WAS FORCED TO SIGN THIS. DWIGHT. _

_So sorry to hear about your mother__. Love, Phyllis._

_Thinking of you—Angela. _

_So sorry, Kevin. Feel better soon—Creed. _

Jim ignored the rest. They were all painfully misguided. His eyes scanned the rest of the card. A picture of two wedding rings were scribbled out in black ink, Michael had written some sort of essay, and Pam—

Pam.

_I know this must be such a difficult time for you. I can only imagine what you're going through—especially after reading this card! Just wanted to let you know you always have a friend in me and I'll always be there to talk if you need it (or if you need assistance messing with Dwight). Pam. _

Jim let the card slip from his fingers. He put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. It had been such a long day. He hadn't been prepared to see Pete or Elijah. He hadn't been prepared to see a casket. He hadn't known his coworkers cared enough to get him a card. At the moment he didn't even care that the card was for a wedding and not a death.

"I see you've read the card." Pam, the only other employee still in the office, raised her eyebrows cheekily at Jim. She stood by the copier, a stack of papers in her hand. She, too, had some excuse to stay late at the office.

"Tell me who got this card. I'll send a thank-you note." Jim answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'll tell him how great the wedding was."

"I'm sure it was magnificent."

"Whatcha doing?" Jim nodded in the direction of Pam's papers.

"Oh," she looked down at them with a smile. "Coloring pages."

"For your future niece?"

"Hardly!" Pam placed the pages on Jim's desk. "They are per request of one Michael Scott."

Black and white deceptions of the illustrious Batman destroying Scarecrow and other villains were ready to be colored. No doubt these pages were made for the new movie, _Batman Begins._ Jim and his roommate went to see it in the theaters—they had somewhat of a comic book fetish. Not that Pam needed to know that.

"That's ironic, you know." Jim reached for his coat, pulling out a Batman action figure from one of the pockets. "Because my nephew left Batman in my coat. Eli and Michael have a lot more in common then we both think.

Pam nodded at him knowingly. "They can have play dates."

"Exactly!" Jim laughed before dropping the toy back in his pocket and slipping his coat on.

"So," Pam quietly changed the subject, looking down. "When do you need me to be at the church?"

Jim froze, his fingers curling around his collar. Truthfully, he had completely forgotten about the funeral, and his asking Pam to come with him. How could he have forgotten?

"Jim, if you-"

"Uh," Jim shook his head and rubbed his temple mindlessly. "No. I-I'll pick you in the morning. Around nine, probably. The church isn't too far away from your place."

"All right." Pam nodded. She couldn't help but notice how Jim knew her address by heart. He had only visited a few times, and it was sweet that he had committed her apartment complex to memory. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You don't have to do this, you know." Jim's attitude had changed from a few days ago when their agreement had been made. "You don't have to come."

"Why not?"

"I…it's different than what I imagined." Jim rubbed the back of his head. "Pete's not doing so well, Elijah's isolated, Larissa-"

"Larissa? What did she do?"

Jim stopped again. Here he was, venting all his troubles to Pam again. She didn't want to hear this. It was late; she should get home and have dinner. She should be happy.

"Jim," Pam stepped closer and took his hand. "It's all right. You can talk to me."

He stared at their intertwined hands like they were the most interesting thing on the planet. Flushing, Pam released her grasp.

"Um," Jim jolted back to reality. "She didn't do anything. That's the point. She's not here. Tom's a mess about the whole thing."

"There has to be some sort of reason she couldn't make the visitation." Pam reassured him. Jim helped her into her coat absentmindedly. "She'll come to the funeral. I promise you, she will."

"What makes you so sure?" Jim asked once Pam turned to face him again.

"Because you're family. Your sister-in-law was family, too. Your sister will come." Pam touched his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."

"Y-yeah." Jim cleared his throat. "Bright and early."

"Of course." She smiled sweetly at him before leaving the office.

"Of course." Jim repeated quietly, once Pam was out of view. Of course Larissa would come. She had to come.


	13. Life

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter thirteen

* * *

"Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold"  
~Andre Maurois

Friday.

Pam was up by seven in the morning, getting ready for the day. The big day. Her friend's brother's wife's funeral. She was so nervous her hands were shaking.

She felt like she was getting ready for work, only she packed extra Kleenex in her purse. This was as nervous as she had ever been. This was as close to a date with Jim as she would ever be. Truthfully, she was confused. Was she trying to impress Jim while he attended a funeral? And, if not, who _was _she trying to impress—his family? Pam supposed she wanted the Halperts to like her. She wanted their blessing. Not that she and Jim were dating. Not that the Halperts knew her. She was Pam. Just Pam.

But she could look nice.

Her straightener was warming up on her bathroom counter. Her black dress was spread out on her bed. Her high heels were already on her feet.

Sitting in the empty bathtub, wearing only a loose tee from her college volleyball team and black tights, Pam tried to calm her nerves. She chewed on a banana thoughtfully as she mulled over Jim's pending arrival. He would come in a few hours, take her to a funeral, and then drop her back home. Seemed simple enough. Was she there for moral support, or did he honestly want to be with her?

Ah, she was selfish. This day was certainly not about her. This day wasn't about Jim, either. This day was about supporting Pete and Elijah. With a sigh, Pam's fingers trailed up to the jewelry around her neck.

"_Jim." She whispered his name in shock. Reaching into the box, she pulled out a necklace. A stunning silver, the necklace held but one charm. A heart. _

"_Congratulations on your engagement, Pam." Jim spoke, staring at the necklace just as she did. It was a declaration of his love. "I hope-"_

"_It's perfect," Pam whispered. "Oh, Jim. I love it. Can you help me put it on?" _

She had been so naïve. With a sigh, Pam clambered out of the tub and began to straighten her hair.

* * *

It was nearly nine o'clock when Jim's humble car came to park in front of Pam's apartment. For a while he sat in his car, making sure the automobile was neat and tidy. He pushed any wrappers or magazines to the backseat. He wanted to impress Pam. He always wanted to impress Pam.

With nervous steps, Jim stepped out of the vehicle. He jiggled his car keys apprehensively. A number of scenarios ran through his mind, but he pushed aside the bad thoughts. All he wanted to see was Pam. Perhaps, then, this day would flow with ease.

Jim opened the door. There she was.

There he was. Pam broke into a smile, unable to control her happiness in seeing Jim Halpert outside of work on a weekday. It was like they were both on some secret mission. Reality, of course, crept its way back into Pam's bones, and her smile faded. She composed herself before walking over to him.

Through his coat, Pam could see how crisp his fresh suit was. Tailored and black, his outfit seemed to mold with Pam's. They were a perfect match—black clothes and light brunette hair. His hair—normally adorably shaggy and unkempt—was even combed through. His hair was _neat. _

Suddenly, just as the good feelings came, they left once again. Jim had stopped walking towards her. He was just staring. It was as if he had noticed her for the first time.

She knew she shouldn't have worn heels.

"Jim," fearful of his looks, Pam reached Jim, taking his hand. "How are you?"

"Uh," he took in a deep breath. He was always so nervous around her. "You look beautiful, Pam." His eyes dropped to her jaw, and then lower and lower until he spotted her necklace. _His _necklace. "Beautiful," he repeated.

"Thank you." Pam flushed. "You look very handsome, yourself."

Sheepish, Jim looked down, clearing his throat. He had to calm his nerves. Was it too early for him to purposely take a sedative? He had considered that whilst driving to the apartment complex. His roommate had joked with him about the theory, of course, but Jim was enjoying the idea more and more. Now, things seemed real. He was actually going to this funeral.

Her funeral.

* * *

The car ride was slow and deliberate. The two hardly spoke, save for Jim singing under his breath to his favorite Bon Jovi CD. Pam could see how hastily he had prepared for her coming. Stray Bon Jovi CDs were scattered in the back seat, along with last month's _Sports Illustrated_.

"_This ain't a song for the brokenhearted,"_ Jim flipped on his turn signal. He seemed oblivious to Pam's soft snickering. He wasn't even trying to be funny. _"No silent prayer for the faith departed." _

Clearly, Pam had had no idea that Jim was such a fan of Bon Jovi. He never talked much about his deep dark secrets, such as this.

"_And I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd, you're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud-"_

"You're shouting, all right." Pam muttered. Jim flushed, suddenly realizing Pam was next to him. His hands relaxed around the steering wheel. Awkwardly, he turned down the music just as the chorus began.

"Sorry." Jim cleared his throat.

"So, how's Pete?" Pam changed the subject.

Jim sighed. "Different. He's probably going to be a little stand-offish."

"That's understandable."

"Yeah, I know." Jim nodded. "He'll come around."

"Sure." Pam agreed. "My parents used to fight all the time, and my sister would always get so angry, but…well, never mind."

"What?" Jim frowned. "What is it?"

"This day isn't about me. It doesn't matter."

"I could use the distraction."

"It's just an old story." Pam reassured him. Jim felt like protesting, but the church was in sight. The high steeple almost seemed like a symbol to Jim as he turned into the parking lot. The steeple represented the growing tower of people trying to reach Julia. Trying to bring her back.


	14. Larissa

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter fourteen

* * *

"When I remember my family, I always remember their backs. They were always indignantly leaving places"  
~John Cheever

"I'm glad you guys could make it." Betsey Halpert greeted her oldest brother and his wife. The couple had just greeted Peter and Elijah, and, as the family began to take their seats for the impending funeral, they stopped to meet others in front of a white casket.

"Good to see you," Tom smiled at his aunt and uncle. Isabella Halpert was aware of her husband's steady hand against the small of her back as he rubbed senseless patterns up and down. Senseless. Many things were senseless about this funeral, like the death of a young mother, and the strain it caused upon the family. Her family. Tom wasn't sleeping, and Isabella was worried that if he kept waking up the dog at unreasonable times to take him for a walk that they both would collapse.

"Tom," Jim walked into the church, a beautiful woman at his arm. The youngest brother, who also happened to be the tallest, seemed eager to see Tom, who hurried over to great him and Pattie. No…Pam? Isabella couldn't remember her name; she just knew she was a girl Jim cared deeply about. It was not difficult to get Jim to admit his feelings for Pam.

"Pam, it's good to see you." Tom hugged Pam, pulling her in with his strong arms. He was the strongest of the three brothers, his broad shoulders surrounding Pam for a moment while they embraced.

Pam pulled back, nodding at Tom with a smile. He was the mischievous one—or so she had heard—yet he seemed different today. He seemed reserved. Jim stood slightly behind her, staring at the casket towards the front of the room. He seemed to be in a trance. Pam took his hand and pressed gently. _You're okay._

Gesturing towards his blonde wife, Tom ushered the lovely woman over to Jim and Pam. "Pam, this is my wife, Isabella. Bell, this is Jim's girlfriend, Pam."

"I've heard so much about you." Isabella smiled, squeezing Pam's free hand. "I'm glad you're here for Jim."

"We're not-"

"Where's Pete?" Jim interrupted Pam, his hand still firmly locked with hers. He didn't seem to mind that Tom had mistakenly called Pam his girlfriend.

"Sitting." Tom waved a somber hand towards the front pews of the church. "He's not good, man."

"He could use his youngest brother," Isabella gave Jim a soft smile. Tom clenched his jaw, but said nothing. He feared Pete was too far gone for even Jim to get through to him.

"Yeah," Jim cleared his throat. "Okay."

Pete was right where Tom said he would be, and when Jim and Pam finally reached him, Jim could see young Elijah resting on his father's lap.

"Pete," Jim called. Pete's ears perked up, but he made no move to turn around. He was like a grieving statue, forever plastered in a somber demeanor. "Pete, man, c'mon. Talk to me."

He turned around, slowly and rigidly. His eyes were expressionless. "What do you want?"

Jim's grip on Pam's hand slackened, and their intertwined fingers loosened.

"Dad? What—Uncle Jim!" Elijah bounded out of his father's loose grasp and wrapped his arms around his uncle. Jim patted the boy's shoulder, but stared solidly at Pete all the while. Pete stared back.

"Elijah, bud, how are you?" Jim was first to break the cold stare-down, squatting down to be level with his nephew.

"Okay, I guess." Elijah shrugged.

"Well, I hope you don't mind, buddy, but I brought a friend." Jim looked up at Pam, who bent down as well.

"I've heard a lot about you, mister." Pam smiled. "I'm Pam."

"Hi, Pam. I'm Elijah."

"I'll be right back." Jim whispered to Pam. "Just one moment. Can you take Elijah to a pew?"

"Sure," Pam nodded, and continued conversing with Elijah, who was eager to get to know his uncle's friend.

Jim stood, blocking out the noises behind him and focusing solely on Pete, who stared at Pam as if she were some unidentified flying object.

"Her name is Pam." Jim came to stand next to his older brother. "I want you to meet her, Pete."

"Sorry." Pete turned back around, facing away from everything but the casket that held his late wife.

"What?" Jim faltered.

"I said _sorry_." Pete snapped. "I don't want to meet your girlfriend. I didn't realize this was the place to bring dates—but I guess mine's already here."

"How-"

"It's not worth it, man." Tom was at Jim's side in an instant, pulling his angry brother away from the robotic Pete. "Let it go."

"Did you hear what he said?" Jim exclaimed.

"Yeah," Tom answered. "Can you blame him? He just lost his wife; he doesn't want to meet your girlfriend."

"We're not…we're not dating." Jim whispered. He was an idiot. What a fool he was, thinking this was the place to bring Pam in the first place, and then to act like this was some sort of family get together?

"Could have fooled me." Tom scoffed. "Go sit with her, man. Let Pete be."

"We can't leave him alone forever." Jim pushed past his brother and towards where Pam and Elijah sat. He sat next to Pam, stiff and tight. He was consoled by the fact that she and Elijah got along so well. Soon, Jim's parents joined the pew next to him, and the funeral began.

The funeral began with a recognizable hymn, "Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer", but Jim did not sing. He wasn't any good at singing, anyhow. He watched Tom and Isabella in the front row, as Pete sat in between them. Isabella held onto Pete's hand, and Tom had slung an arm around his brother's shoulder. They were so affectionate they made Jim feel uncomfortable. Isabella had truly changed Jim's once reckless brother, and he was still trying to figure out if the change was for better or worse. He looked next to him. His parents were holding hands. The pastor was clasping his own hands in deep prayer. As if conforming to a general consensus, Jim placed his arm around Pam's shoulders. She jolted at the touch, but masked the movement, rather sending Jim a concerned look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good." He whispered. Pam nodded cautiously before turning back towards Elijah and helping him turn to the right page in his hymnal. They sang another hymn. There really was too much singing going on for Jim's taste.

"Thank you all who have come to say goodbye to our beloved sister, Julia." Jason, Julia's older brother, had begun to speak, relieving the pastor of his duties for a brief time. "Your support as meant to much to us these last couple of days. We are truly blessed." He looked down, taking in a deep breath. "You know, my sister, Linda, and Julia were only a year apart. They were quite close. She wrote something to say, but she doesn't think she can get through it without crying, so, with Linda's permission, I read her testimony.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always been jealous of Julia's good looks. Her hair was always so beautifully sleek—even when we were just middle schoolers. She had the most beautiful smile in the world-" Jason stopped, eyebrows knit together. He cleared his throat, letting out a shaky breath. "She had the most beautiful smile in the world, and the ability to have any boy she wanted, but she had eyes for only one man, and that was Pete Halpert, her husband."

The sound of his own name seemed to act like some sort of trigger to Pete. He slumped down, his head in his hands. Jason noticed, and he stopped speaking, struggling to keep his composure. He continued, however, Linda's words like knives in Pete's back, like ever imminent reminders of his widower status. His shoulders began to shake with mourning. Tom and Isabella could not console him.

Pam, all the while, was aware of Jim's weary touches. His hand, once placed firmly around her shoulder, had trailed to her neck, and then her hair. Now, as his fingers played with her hair shakily, Jim tried desperately to concentrate on nothing but Pam. His mind was a whirlwind, caught between Pete, the casket, and the rest of his family. Pam and Elijah seemed so far away, so achingly distanced from him, although they were closest to him in reality.

Trying to comfort Elijah, Pam reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the Batman action figure that Elijah had forgotten in Jim's pocket at the visitation. The poor boy was having trouble watching his father weep.

"Here, Elijah." Pam placed the toy in his lap with a gentle whisper.

"You found it?" Elijah looked up at her, eyes wide.

"Uncle Jim did." Pam shook her head. "You should thank him later. Do you want to play with it?"

Elijah stared at the toy for a moment. The dark superhero stared back at him, immortalized in plastic. "No," he shook his head with a sigh. "Not really."

"Would you like to color?" Pam tried next. Jim frowned, looking over at her.

"Color what?" Elijah was interested, now.

"Well," Pam took a box of crayons and folded up piece of paper from her purse. "See what it is."

Elijah unfolded the paper. "Batman!" He exclaimed in an excited whisper. "Cool!"

"Michael won't be happy." Jim whispered. Pam winked at him, allowing Elijah to lean against her side as he began to color, the paper spread out on a hymnal.

Jim stared at Pam once she had turned her attention back to the service. He was so glad he brought her. He was so glad she was connecting with his family. He was so glad his family was connecting with the woman he loved. He—

The church door flung open with irate, independent intensity. The service seemed to pause momentarily as everyone turned around to see who would interrupt such a private ceremony. Jim turned as well, and, to his shock, saw someone he never thought he would see again.

Larissa.


	15. Arguments

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter fifteen

* * *

**A/n:** Just wanted to give a shout out to the wonderful reviewers who have been so faithfully reading! Keep it up, guys. Also, not much is shown on The Office about Jim's family, so I have taken some liberties to the brothers, and Larissa.

* * *

"There is no such thing as fun for the whole family"

~Jerry Seinfeld

The sound of the door opening had caught everyone's attention, especially the Halpert brothers. One by one, the three turned towards the noise and towards their sister.

Not only was Larissa there, but her husband and daughter were as well, who stood a few steps behind, looking sheepish. Larissa, however, seemed unfazed by the cold stares she was receiving.

Jim looked at his sister with a great sense of disappointment, shoulders slumped. Pete was too shocked to do anything. Tom bolted out of his chair in anger, hands balled into fists. He slowly locked eyes with his sister.

"Jim, what is it?" Pam's soft voice caught his attention. "Who is it?" She arched her neck.

"No-" Jim protested weakly, but it was too late.

"Oh." Pam knew immediately who the woman was. Larissa. She was even more beautiful than Pam had thought, she realized with a sinking heart. Larissa's dark, sleek hair cascaded past her shoulders in confident, straight lines. Her black dress was form-fitting and lustrous. Shewas radiant.

"Babe," Daniel, Larissa's husband, whispered softly into his wife's ear. Larissa broke her glare with Tom and allowed her husband to usher her and Vanessa, their daughter, into a back row pew. The pastor, clearing his throat, began to speak once more, opening the Bible for consolation.

As the mourners turned their attention back towards the funeral at hand, Daniel strode his way quietly over to Gerald Halpert. Resting a hand on his shoulder, Daniel leaned over and whispered something to Jim's parents. They nodded appreciatively. Betsey squeezed his hand. Jim adjusted his tie uncomfortably. Daniel, no matter how he tried, could never be as rude as his sister. He was well-intentioned and kind-hearted. He was also incredibly handsome, his broad shoulders only appearing more so in his tailored suit—no doubt the work of Larissa's intentions. Daniel's hair was always kept short and neat, a habit renewed from his days in the Coast Guard, and his affection for his extended family seemed to outweigh his wife's. It was Daniel who would call Larissa's brothers, just to talk or to check up on the family news. It was as if he were making up for his distant wife. For their distant sister.

"Tom." From the front pew, Isabella stared at her husband, who was still standing. His face was contorted in anger. For a moment, he didn't seem to register his wife's words. Slowly, however, her hand came to his fist, and she unraveled his tight fingers until she could see his open palm once more. Tom slid back down into the pew, sighing loudly. Isabella kissed his hand, sending him an empathetic look. He returned her gaze, but shook his head, sighing again. _Why did Larissa come at all? It's not like she ever cared. _

"You know, she should have called." Betsey whispered to her husband, pursing her lips.

"Uncle Jim, who was that?" Elijah looked past Pam with a frown. Shocked, Pam turned towards Jim as well. He refused to look at them, especially Pam. He knew her look would tell it all. Disappointment, perhaps. Confusion, most likely.

"Jim," Pam touched his arm gently. He seemed troubled.

"My…my sister left before Elijah turned two." Jim shrugged. "He wouldn't remember her. He…he just wouldn't."

"Is she different?" Pam asked, tilting her head to the side slightly to get a better look at Jim's clouded eyes. "Is she different from before?"

"Different?" Jim scoffed, shaking his head. "She's exactly the same. Exactly."

* * *

The funeral ended soundly, one last, resounding hymn to leave the mourners consoled and faithful. The long, dreadful time had ceased.

As Jim stood, twisting his back in an odd stretch to release underlying tension, he inspected the crowd. There weren't many dry eyes. Even Pam had gotten a little teary-eyed, a sight that made Jim's heart swell with a secret pride he would never admit. _She _was crying for _his_ family; he loved her so much.

"C'mon, Eli." Pam pulled the young boy to his feet, and helped him smooth out of rumpled suit. He tucked some long locks of hair behind his petite ear and gave Pam a toothy grin.

"Will I see you again, Miss Pam?" He asked, his eyes hopeful and wide. Pam looked at Jim, her eyebrows knit together. How should she answer?

"Well-"

"Jim, man." Daniel was suddenly next to them, his strong hands clasped together and mouth quirked in a cordial smile. He was always so cordial.

"Danny." Jim nodded his greeting at his brother-in-law, and slipped his hand out of his pocket, bracing himself for Dan's firm handshake. Daniel grabbed Jim's hand, returning the gesture firmly. Jim tried not to cringe as Daniel single-handedly crushed his hand.

"How are you, man?" Daniel asked. His daughter came to surprise him from behind, and Daniel easily swooped her up into his arms, while still keeping eye contact with Jim.

Damn, he was good.

"Uh, good. I'm good." Jim shrugged. "It's good to see you, and, uh, Vanessa."

"She's a little quiet today." Daniel spoke for his daughter. "She's just getting over a cold."

"Oh." Jim nodded. He had had no idea. Of course, he had had no idea. "I, uh, hope she feels-"

Daniel broke eye contact. Jim stopped speaking immediately. He felt like he had been under some sort of interrogation with Daniel's hazel gaze. Jim turned to see who had caught Daniel's attention.

"Gerald, sir, if I had known the time we were supposed to be here, I would have-"

"Don't apologize to me, Dan, this isn't your fault."

Daniel looked down, and saw a shiny black heel. Larissa had come to stand next to him. She snaked an arm through his. Her grip was firmer than usual, as if she were proving some sort of point. Tom and Isabella soon finished the circle of Halperts and Pam, Tom's gaze steely and as cold as ice.

"Don't apologize for my sister, she doesn't deserve it." Tom snapped. A few steps behind her husband, Isabella placed a steady hand on his back, trying to calm him.

"Excuse me?" Larissa retorted instantly. She never backed down from a fight.

"What made you come, huh?" Tom asked. "I can't imagine you feel any guilt for crashing a funeral."

"I was invited, Thomas." Larissa responded icily. "Believe it or not, I'm family, if you must know."

"Know? _Know_? Trust me, Ris, I _know_ more than you do. I'm here for my family _whenever _they need me. Where were you?"

"I'm here now, what more do you want?"

"You don't even _care_!" Tom lunged forward in his anger, his hands coming to rake through his hair. "You've never cared! This is all an act!"

"Tom, man." Daniel held up his hands. "Let it go."

"What the hell is your problem?" Larissa was possibly more irate than Tom, ignoring her husband's weak plea for peace between the two.

"My problem?" Tom scoffed. "You left your family in the dust! You weren't there for Eli's birth, you weren't there for my wedding, or Jim's graduation, or-"

"Don't let me interrupt your meeting." Pete pushed through his family, Elijah at his heels. The group grew silent, watching solemnly as the two headed towards Pete's car and out of view.

"Nice job, Thomas. Always there for your family, huh?" Larissa rounded on her brother as soon as the door closed.

"You guys, I don't really think this is the time or place." Pam put in quietly. It was the first time she had spoken. The Halperts looked at her in surprise, especially Jim.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Larissa frowned. She looked at her youngest brother with a confusing frown.

Jim felt like he was shrinking under his sister's cold stare. Pam turned to look at him as well, giving him a soft smile.

"Uh-"

"Jim doesn't have to explain himself to you, Ris." Tom jumped to Pam's defense before Jim could. Larissa opened her mouth to respond, but Gerald, her surprisingly passive father, interrupted with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

"We should get to the cemetery with the rest of the procession." He said gruffly, nodding more to himself than to others. Jim sent Pam a look. They were late to the procession—just like Larissa had been late to the funeral. Now who was worse off?

"C'mon," Jim whispered, slipping a protective arm around Pam's waist, perhaps to prove something to his sister, but more so to feel her soft skin under his fingers. "Let's go."


	16. Caskets

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter sixteen

* * *

"Govern a family as you would cook a small fish—very gently"  
~Chinese Proverb

Halfway through the burial, Jim began to panic. Everyone around him was seemingly in tears except himself. The blunt expression of grief made him uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do with himself but keep his arm around Pam's waist and feel her chest heave up and down with her breathing.

With a sweeping gaze, Jim looked around at the people surrounding the gravestone. Daniel was holding Vanessa in his strong arms as she curled into his capable shoulder. Larissa stood slightly behind him, the first sign of cowardice inflicting upon her confident air. Pete was as expressionless as he had been in days. Isabella and Betsy had their arms around each other, their respective husbands standing close behind them. And, of course, Elijah, who began to break after being strong for so long. The sight of his mother's casket being lowered into a cleared out pile of dirt and uprooted grass shocked and changed him at the same time. Jim could see his bony knees wobble and tremble as he reached for his father, his thin arms grasping at the air next to him. His father did not recognize his plea. His father did not look anywhere but at the casket. Tears began to emerge on the young boy's face, running trails down from his eyelids. Isabella nudged her solemn husband, who moved quickly to place his arms around the child before Elijah fell. With a loud cry, he buried himself in his uncle's strong grasp.

"C'mon, Eli," Tom whispered hoarsely, "Let's go for a walk." A single tear threatened to fall from Tom's eyes. _Tom _was crying. Jim stared at him in shock. Even Tom was crying, now. Was he the only one that had not uttered a single cry the entire funeral? Pam had become misty-eyed during the eulogy, for Pete's sake. Literally, Jim noted as an afterthought, for Pete's sake.

Jim despised the tears. They made him uncomfortable and rigid. His grip on Pam involuntarily tightened. He leaned towards her, his chin brushing against her soft, light brunette hair. He glanced over at Larissa, who stared stony faced at the casket that had begun to be caked by dirt. Slowly and surely, Jim knew the casket would be covered and become a true grave. Then, Julia Halpert would truly be dead, and Larissa would go back to her life. She would have ridden the minor speed bump with ease, continuing down the road she paved herself, for herself only. The thought made Jim ill with irritation.

"Can we leave?" he whispered softly into Pam's hair. His fingers clasped against her side, squeezing lightly to let her know he was speaking to her. Pam jolted back to reality. She had been pretending not to notice Jim's light caresses, the way he nervously jittered about, or his incredibly familiar yet foreign scent. She glanced around at the other family and friends gathered around the grave, who had begun to mill about, shoveling dirt over the casket, or paying their respects to Pete one last time. Elijah and Tom were further away, speaking softly to each other. Her only response to Jim was a slight nod, the friction of her hair against his lips all he needed to know she was just as ready to leave as he was.

He pulled back from her, then, his hands, once imprinted against her skin, now leaving a cold and lonely mark against her shirt. The slight breeze became known to Pam, she felt it against her hair, rustling through her peacoat, dancing along her heels. She glanced at Jim, but he would not return her gaze. He did not take her hand. He left quickly and sheepishly, ashamed for leaving early.

As the two slipped away through the throngs of people and towards the parking lot, Pam noted how Jim coldly brushed past his sister with little emotion. Neither acted to know one another at all. Neither seemed to care much, either. She was the oldest, and he was the youngest, however time was not the only separation keeping them apart, now.

When Jim's car suddenly came into view, Pam stopped him. Her hand reached towards his arm, covered by a thick jacket and suit coat.

"Why didn't you say anything to your sister?"

His eyebrows knit together as he faced her, wordless. "I-I don't know." It was as if he hadn't spoken in hours, his voice scratchy and hoarse. "I just don't know." He shrugged helplessly. He didn't want to talk about Larissa. He desperately wished for some sort of humor to arise, something to send he and Pam off laughing or smiling. Something to change the mood.

He unlocked his car and opened the driver's side, slipping in. Pam opened her door and sat down, unsatisfied. "You can't ignore her forever, Jim."

"She does a pretty good job of ignoring me." He didn't bother looking at Pam as he made his point, fidgeting as he slid the key into the ignition. He turned the key.

Nothing.

His hand was shaking horribly. Pam watched him in concern. Emitting a slight groan, Jim tried again.

Nothing.

"No, no." Jim whispered. "Don't do this."

Nothing.

"Shit!" Jim cursed, angry. He ripped the key out and—

And Pam took it.

"I'll drive." She whispered, eyes showing slight apprehension. He had scared her. Sighing, Jim nodded in surrender. He gave in.

* * *

Jim's head rested against the cool window of his car. He feigned sleep, but only because his eyes would not shut. He fought desperately between trying to sleep and being unable to look away from Pam. The love of his life driving _his _car, what could be better?

"Thank you," his voice came out drowsy. Which was true, he was emotionally and physically exhausted.

"For what?" Pam asked, glancing at him with a soft smile.

"You know," Jim forced himself to sit up. "For everything. You didn't have to come to the funeral today, but I'm glad you did. I'm glad you're with me, now."

"I want you to come over." Pam said suddenly.

"Where?"

"My apartment. I want to make you lunch. Can I do that?" Pam asked. "I mean, you just look so tired and…well, I make a mean grilled cheese, or so I'm told. Just ask Stanley."

"Stanley…" Jim laughed, rubbing his eyes. He didn't want Pam to do anything else for him. Not today, at least, but the look in her eyes made him think otherwise. He couldn't say no to her. "All right."

"Really?" She beamed at him. "So, this is okay?"

"Yeah," Jim smiled. "This is great. I'm starving."


	17. Make Believe

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter seventeen

* * *

"All happy families resemble one another; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way"

~Count Leo Tolstoy

Pam's apartment was smaller than Jim expected, but he was not surprised, as she lived by herself. He did not often forget that she was single. She slipped off her coat and hung it up on a peg tacked to the back of the door. She was so neat.

A long couch lay to one side of the wall. It seemed to beckon towards Jim, his long limbs suddenly aching with fatigue, but he stayed clear of the furniture. It would be rude to completely ignore Pam after she had invited him over. Besides, the thought was tantalizing: _Pam wanted him in her apartment. _He had fleetingly believed that, while Pam recovered from Roy's sudden departure, he would never get as far as driving her home ever again. And now, when he needed her most, she took him under her protective care and allowed him into her home.

Jim wasn't sure who to thank, but he knew he would say a special prayer of appreciation to Julia that night. If she could hear him, that was. Deep down, he believed she would, but his skepticism clouded his subconscious.

"Sorry," Pam broke the silence, equally distracted. She still had her gloves on, a cold, slightly pink hand staring at her phone. "Sorry…I have a voicemail. It's my sister, just one second." She looked up sheepishly. "This will just take a moment. Make yourself at home."

"S-sure." Jim cleared his throat. "No problem."

Relieved, she smiled sweetly at him for a moment before disappearing into her bedroom.

_Make yourself at home_, that's what she had told him. He had never heard sweeter words. He gravitated towards the couch immediately, his lanky legs moving before his mind could stop to think. His overcoat slid off of his broad shoulder, followed by his dark suit jacket. The oppression of the day slipped off with the garments. Instantly, his eyelids felt heavy and weighted. He desperately fought of the desire to kick back, put his feet up, and sleep. So, instead, he sat up with perfect posture, his eyes intently watching the closed door Pam was behind, waiting for her return. She was the only diversion that could keep him from sleep, now.

His recollections drifted towards Pete and Tom, then. His worried about his older brothers quite often, and especially now. Especially Pete. His eldest brother hadn't said more than a handful of words to any family member during Julia's visitation and funeral, and he became even more reserved once she had turned up. Larissa. Damn her. Damn her and her delusional ego, and her beautiful daughter, and perfect husband, and-

"Sorry about that." The door opened abruptly, and Pam returned. Her face had lit up, and she seemed deliriously happy to be apologizing. "That was Penny. She and her husband just got back from the hospital."

"Is she all right?" Jim was pulled from his startling moment of loathing and back to the comfort of Pam's hazel-colored hair and familiar smile.

"Oh, yes. Just baby stuff." Pam beamed. "My future niece or nephew is three months along!"

Jim grinned at her, his happiness for her and her sister masked only briefly by the thought of his own niece and nephew, more so of his nephew. Pam knew, too, as soon as she saw Jim's forced smile. He probably didn't want to hear about her sister, anyway. Why did he care? Pam thought sparingly. She noticed he had shed his outer layers. His dark tie and crisp, white shirt reflected oddly against his hair, which had returned to its regular, shaggy state during the windy burial. Who knew he would look so dapper when he dressed up? Pam bit her lip unknowingly.

"So-"

Jim's stomach, reading Pam's thoughts, growled loudly and starkly. Both froze, staring at one another.

"Uh-"

"Hungry?" Pam's smile turned sly, and she raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"Well, what can I say? You yourself told me you make a mean grilled cheese." Jim countered.

"Ah, that I do, monsieur, but if you're as hungry as I think you are, you probably can't wait for a grilled cheese. Luckily for you there is another item on the Beesly menu—my world famous BLT."

"I assume this is on the house, then, chef?"

"Naturally, good sir. One BLT, then?" Pam noted, before raising a cunning finger. "And lest I forget-" Jim snorted "-I still have some _sweet_ iced tea left. And Sunchips. Can't forget the Sunchips."

"Sold." Jim folded up his imaginary menu and handed it to Pam, who bowed slightly. Her eyes caught his for a moment, and they both saw through each other's façade.

"Make yourself comfortable, monsieur, and your meal will be out shortly." Pam spoke softer, this time, breaking their unintentional staring contest. She turned and headed towards the kitchenette.

"What about you?" Jim called after her, dropping his act.

"Me?" Pam frowned, turning around. She still had the imaginary menu tucked at her hip.

"For lunch, I mean. What are you having?"

"What is good enough for the monsieur is good enough for me." She gave him a mischievous smile before disappearing into the quaint kitchenette.

Chuckling softly to himself, Jim loosened his tie and sat down on the couch again. This time, the sofa welcomed his presence, and seemed more comfortable than ever. The soft clinking of dishes from the kitchen whispered to Jim that he would have some time before lunch, if only a few minutes. Ever since Pam had mentioned those three letters, Jim desperately wanted a BLT. Nothing sounded better to him at the moment.

Except, he thought suddenly, sleep.

His body obeyed his mind. He stretched out, and, in a matter of seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

_Walking into work, Jim knew something was invariably different about the cloudy morning. As he stared at the looming building of Dunder Mifflin, he couldn't help but worry. The parking lot was oddly still. Cars were already parked and motionless. Everyone was already at work, which was strange. Jim was never the last one at work. He always was on time. He would meet her at the doorway, and they would walk in together._

_Pam. _

_That's what was different. Pam wasn't at the doorway waiting for him. Where could she be? Walking slowly into the building, Jim ignored the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. Was she already working? Why didn't she call him and tell him she would come to work earlier? _

Hold on, dammit,_ Jim thought angrily to himself_, you're not her father._ But he did care about her. _

_Pushing open the door to the right floor, Jim quickly directed his way through the hallways and into the right office. Dunder Mifflin. _

_The room was hazy, a thick fog clouding his vision. Coughing at the unfamiliar substance, Jim pushed through it the best he could. He found Creed on the floor, curled around the purple smoke, but he talking rapidly to himself, and Jim didn't want to risk catching any of his insane notions. He reached the receptionist's desk. _

_Empty. _

"_Pam?" he was getting nervous, now. Where could she be? "Pam?" _

"_Oh, of course, you would call for _her_." Angela appeared, taunting him. Slowly, the fog faded. The purple faded to gray and then to white, before floating away. _

"_Where's Pam?" Jim asked. "Where's Michael?" he had no idea why he was so nervous. He frantically told himself to calm down, but he just _knew _something was wrong. _

"_Michael's doing what he's supposed to be doing, for once." Angela rolled her eyes. "He's visiting with Pam's family?" _

"_About _what_?" Jim was yelling now. _

"_Are you really that stupid?" Oscar appeared behind him. When he saw Jim's manic expression, his voice softened. "Jim, do you honestly not remember? Pam was in a car crash last night."_

"_What the hell are you talking about? _I _was with Pam. She went to the funeral with me. She went to _Julia's _funeral with me!" Jim exclaimed. _

"_You were with her?" Angela rolled her eyes. "Not surprising. You ruined her relationship; why not just take her life, too? It wasn't enough to run her fiancé out of town? You had to kill her, too?"_

"_No! No, you've got it all wrong. Pam's not-"_

"_She's dead, man." Kevin sat in the receptionist's desk, now, spinning around. "Get used to it." _

"_No. Oh, no." Jim shook his head. "Not you, too, Kevin. C'mon, you can't believe this crap." _

"_Yeah I can." He said indignantly. "You're the one that told me she died. You said something happened with her brain." _

"_Her brain?" Jim's voice softened. His eyes filled to the brim with unwanted tears. _

"_You honestly don't remember?" Oscar asked again. _

"_I-" Jim's phone rang. He looked down. Julia Halpert calling._

* * *

Setting down two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table, Pam smiled softly at Jim. He was fast asleep, his hands loose at his sides. He looked exhausted, Pam noted. Who knew the funeral would take so much out of him? She placed two plates containing a BLT and chips each onto the table.

Jim heard the soft clinking of glass on glass, but he pushed past it. He had to answer his phone. He had to speak to Julia. Perhaps, for some odd reason, she would know about Pam's car accident. He muttered something incoherently and turned a little on his side.

"Jim," Pam laughed softly. She did not want to wake the sleeping man, but she was starving and did not want to eat without him. She gently touched his shoulder.

His response was immediate. Jolting up, he grabbed her arm instantly. His grip was stronger than she expected.

"Jim!" She did not mean to sound so harsh, but she was becoming scared.

Jim was confused. His breathing was labored and came out in short gasps. Was he dreaming or not? Everything around him seemed unnaturally still. And the person he was holding on to, who was she? His eyes slowly trailed up to see Pam.

Pam. She was all right, she was fine. She was alive. It was poor Julia that had died, instead. His grip on her was threatening and sharp. He let go of her arms at once.

"Pam," he whispered her name breathlessly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Pam. I thought…I thought-"

"Oh, Jim." She pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back affectionately. For the first time since finding out about Julia's death, Jim wanted to cry. Her touches were so tender and caring. His face buried in the soft crevice of her neck, his arms loose at his side.

Pam felt moisture at the tip of her shoulder. Was Jim crying? She almost felt like she was intruding on such a private moment. A man's tears did not often show for an audience. Pam often wondered why, but now, as she felt Jim's distressed, silent tears, her heart broke. Craning her neck towards him, she took in his familiar scent and placed her lips against his clean-shaven cheek comfortably.

He pulled back instantly. His eyes were red and wet, but they stared at her with startling conviction. She had kissed him. Is that what she wanted? Had she meant to do that?

Pam smiled softly at him, her hands coming to rub his arms, just below the shoulder. Her touches were invigorating. She was so perfect. He loved her.

His hands ran to her cheeks, and he pulled her close to him. His face tilted ever so slightly, but he did not hesitate besides that. He kissed her tenderly on the lips.

She responded more eagerly than he thought she would. She kissed him back eagerly, her hands tightening their grip on his strong arms. He let off a soft noise, bordering between need and anticipation. Her hands wound around his neck and tugged at his shaggy hair. His tongue trailed a line against her lips. She let him in easily. His hands fell to her waist, and her pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against him. He felt himself losing control.

And then, just as the moment had begun, Jim was pulling away with frightening quickness.

He could hardly believe himself. He invited Pam to accompany him to his sister-in-law's _funeral_, and then they go back to her apartment and kiss? He couldn't decide if he was taking advantage of her, or the other way around. Either way, he was disgusted with himself. The same tears still stung his eyes, remnants of Julia's memorial clouding his vision until Pam became a blur.

He blinked the tears away, muttering something incoherent. He could not speak through the lump in his throat. Pete was right. He had taken Pam as his date. He had taken advantage of Pete, and Pam, and Elijah. What the hell was wrong with him?

Pam said something, but the words flew over Jim's head. He couldn't think straight. He wanted to punch something, and he was afraid he might hurt Pam. He had to leave.

Ignoring the lunch set before him that he desperately wanted to eat, Jim stood quickly and grabbed his coats. He refused to wipe his tears away or give any sign of his grief to Pam. He did not want to be pitied.

She was saying more things, now, and her hand came to grab his arm. He jerked away from her instantaneously and left the room, mumbling hurried apologies.

He shut the door to Pam's apartment, slamming it closed. He hadn't meant to be so loud. He slipped on his jacket and overcoat and headed to his car. His phone rang. _Dad_. Jim ignored the call with a heavy heart.

Only when he was safely tucked inside his car, the engine running softly, did Jim finally allow a childlike hiccup to escape his lips, and the tears to fall down his face and past his trembling chin.


	18. Dinner Plans

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter eighteen

* * *

**A/n:** As stated before, I have taken some liberties with Jim's siblings. In fact, if you want to have a clear visualization of Jim's brothers, I have the actors switched. Blake Robbins, who plays Tom Halpert on the television show, resembles the appearance Pete Halpert in this story, and Tug Coker, who portrays Pete Halpert on T.V., looks more like Tom Halpert does in this story. I know it's confusing, sorry!

* * *

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family: Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one"

~Jane Howard

March 25, 2006. Five days since the funeral of Julia Halpert. The remnants of the memorial were to prominent to Tom Halpert; the fact that his nephew had lost his mother twelve days ago startled and shocked him, pinning him to his bed. He stared at his clock as the date and time glared knowingly at him. _Nine days more than Julia. _ _Almost ten_. Tom coughed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. It was 11:30 in the afternoon. Normally, it would have been unnatural for Tom to sleep in past 8:30, but he was coming down with something and had obviously slept in.

He grabbed a hoodie and threw it over his shoulders, scratching the back of his dark hair as he stumbled out of bed. His hands fell limply against his sides and reacted slowly as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts. He moved numbly towards the closed door to his bedroom, stopping only to cough once more into the gray sleeve of his hoodie. He pulled the jacket closer to him, accordingly, as the air circulating across the room a drastic change from the warm covers.

He opened the door to the bedroom and entered the long hallway. One thing he and Isabella had immediately enjoyed when looking at this house was that the master bedroom was totally disconnected from the rest of the one-story home. That way, when Isabella had a bunch of her friends over, Tom did have to socialize the _entire _time, and vice versa. They had purchased the house four years ago when they had first married.

He found Isabella in the family room. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her fresh, healthy face, and she played a game with Elijah.

Elijah.

Tom zipped up his hoodie before Elijah noticed him, hoping his nephew hadn't seen his chest. He figured he should at least attempt to be dressed in front of Pete's kid.

"Hi, Uncle Tom!" Elijah waved to Tom as he walked into the family room.

"Morning, bud." Tom cleared his sore throat and smiled at his nephew. He joined his wife on the long couch, kissing her on the temple before sitting down again. She set down her cards and placed her hand on his forehead with a frown. Her hand was cool to the touch and felt wonderful against Tom's head.

"You're lucky it's Saturday." Isabella concluded, squeezing his shoulder.

He glanced at her lazily. "Would you keep me from work?" he asked with a growing smile.

"Most definitely. You are not well." Isabella answered quickly. Tom could see the worried look in her eyes, and he sat up straighter, trying to feign wellness. He did not like to see her so worried.

"I think my daddy's sick, too." Elijah said, setting down his stack of cards as well and joining his aunt and uncle on the couch. He wore his signature baseball cap over his shaggy hair and plopped down next to Isabella.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

"Well, he just doesn't talk to me that much, that's all." Elijah shrugged. "He might have a sore throat or something."

Groaning, Tom shook his head. He tried not to be angry with Pete for his apathy or Elijah for his naïveté. Isabella tensed beside him, but her calm presence did not falter. Tom took a deep breath and bit his lip.

"I'll get you some water." Isabella patted her husband's shoulder and got up, heading towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?" he suggested instead.

"Water." She persisted. "You're sick."

Leaning back against the couch, Tom rubbed his temple. She was right. He _was_ sick. He didn't want to worry her, he was sure it was some viral thing, but she had found out without him having to say anything. And she worried.

"Hey, squirt, what did you mean by your dad was sick?" Tom asked again, glancing at Eli, who was messing with the deck of cards again. "Is he really sick?"

"Well, he sleeps a lot like you do, and you're sick." Elijah noted with another careless shrug. "Plus he never talks to me. Maybe he has a sore throat."

"Maybe." Tom muttered. "Hey, do you have practice today, buddy?"

"Uh…yeah!" Eli remembered, heading towards the guest room to get dressed. Tom watched him run off with a dull expression.

Once his nephew was out of sight, Tom kicked the ottoman in front of him. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

"You shouldn't bother Eli about Pete." Isabella had returned, handing Tom a glass of water. He took it silently and drank quickly.

"He's been here three days, Bell." Tom mumbled. "It's not as if Pete can just send his kid away."

"Just give him time, Tom." Isabella rubbed his back, leaning towards him. "Pete will come around."

"I'm worried about him." Tom whispered. "What if-"

A sharp bark interrupted Tom as their Beagle trotted into the room. She settled at Tom's feet, and he hoisted her onto his lap, petting her.

"Such a big girl." Isabella laughed.

"She's insulting you, Katie." Tom whispered. "Don't let her tear you down like that."

"You know, Tom, if you're so worried about Pete, why don't you talk to Jim?"

"Jim?" Pete frowned. "Why?"

"Jim adores Pete, Tom." Isabella pressed. "Pete is his oldest brother, Jim looks up to him. I have a feeling Pete feels close to Jim, too."

"Yeah." Tom nodded.

"If you can't get through to Pete, maybe Jim can."

"How?"

"Give him a call," Isabella suggested. "Invite him over for dinner tonight. I'm sure he'd like to see Eli again, and we can talk about Pete."

Tom sighed, setting Katie back down on the carpet. "I…I feel like we're going behind Pete's back, that's all."

Isabella kissed the top of his head and stood up. "It's only for his own good." She said resignedly.

Tom nodded numbly, a horrid feeling settling in his stomach.


	19. Family Secrets

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter nineteen

* * *

"Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material"

~Anonymous

They were finally getting back to normal; Jim relished in the fact. He and Pam had overcome another obstacle. Another mishap of his own doing. He couldn't believe she had forgiven him again.

After he had abandoned her on the afternoon of Julia's funeral, they had hardly spoken. His coworkers could tell. Michael was incredibly suspicious. Dwight was convinced that Jim and Pam were playing some horrid prank on him.

Pam would pass his desk often, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder or smiling sweetly at him. It was enough for him to recede back to work without a reaction. He did not want her to be so calm about what had happened. He had taken advantage of her and kissed her. She didn't deserve that. She deserved better.

On the twenty-third she had brought in two BLTs for lunch, offering one to Jim. He had shakily asked her if they were the same sandwiches. And then he had apologized again. She had smiled at him for the third time.

Now, it was the twenty-fifth of March, and they were back to normal. Jim could hardly believe how easily they had slid back into their normal routine of joking, pranking, and laughing. He almost felt somewhat normal again.

Truly, she was the only one that understood him. Others at work, namely Angela and Oscar, often wondered aloud why Jim was so affected by an in-law's death. They had not known Julia. They did not know Pete or Elijah. But Pam did. And she had heard enough about Julia from Jim to know what kind of person she was. Pam understood. Pam didn't need to ask twice.

They had agreed to go to an early lunch on the bright, Saturday morning. Neen's diner, eleven in the morning. Jim would meet her there, as she had an errand to run earlier that morning.

Sitting with her, now, the clock almost signaling noon, Jim hoped their meal would never end.

Perhaps his suave demeanor had to do with the fact that he didn't feel like this was a date. His roommate, of course, had told him otherwise, but Jim disagreed. He did not feel the pressure to dress up or act any differently than he normally did around Pam. He had never felt so relaxed—not since Julia's death, anyway.

"Jim," Pam spoke suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.

"Huh—what?" Jim looked up, eyebrows raised. Pam was holding his phone in her hand, and it was ringing impatiently. "Oh." He took the phone quickly.

"It's Tom." Pam informed him. Jim's eyes widened. "Go ahead," she nodded at him with a soft smile. "Answer it."

He did, flipping his phone open pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Jim," Tom cleared his throat. Jim noted that he sounded tired. "Hey, man."

"Is everything all right?" Jim couldn't help the automatic question.

"Sure, sure." Tom's answer was flippant. "Listen; are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Why?" Jim frowned.

"Why?" Tom started, but was cut off by a cough. "I have to have a reason to ask my kid brother to dinner?"

"Yes." Jim retorted. "Are you sick?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Tom said quickly. "And this dinner may or may not be about Pete."

Jim sighed, leaning back against his chair. He glanced at Pam, who was fingering the check the waitress had placed on the table. Jim quickly snatched it from her grasp before she could consider paying for their lunch. She shook her head with a grin.

"What's the matter, now?" Jim asked, trying to sound concerned. Pam was a good distraction, as always.

"Well, for one, Eli's been staying at our house for three nights, now."

"What?"

"Pete's been asking me these 'favors' ever since the funeral. If Eli's not with Bell and I, he's with Mom and Dad. Hell, he might even call Ris to take him, but I'd reckon Pete still has his common sense."

"Hold on, why hasn't he called me?"

"Please, like he'd want to bother you." Tom answered gruffly. "He really doesn't want to bother you." His voice was softer.

"Eli's not a problem, Tom. I can take care of my nephew." Jim was a little affronted by his eldest brother's negligence. "He could have called."

"Yeah, and he could have dropped Eli off at your doorstep unannounced." Tom retorted. "Listen, the kid's got baseball practice soon, so I've got to head out soon." Tom sighed. "For some reason Eli isn't the center of Pete's attention anymore."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Jim asked softly.

"You talk to me first." Tom replied quickly. "Come over tonight, okay? You can bring your girlfriend if you want."

Jim looked over at Pam again. She was glancing out the window, watching the cars pass and twirling her curly hair around a pale, slender finger. Jim hoped he wasn't boring her.

"No, uh, I'll be there." Jim rubbed the back of his neck. The waitress came back and took the check. "Around six thirty?"

"Make it seven." Tom said. "I'm going to visit the parents around five."

"Uh, sure." Jim said. "Do you need me-?"

"No." Tom interrupted. "I think I'll be fine. Just want to see if they know anything more about Pete than we do."

"Apparently, I know nothing."

"I'm telling you, he doesn't like bothering you." Tom assured him. "He'd much rather bother Ris, who, by the way, is staying with Mom and Dad."

"What?" Jim leaned forward. "Why? Are she and Dan okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." Tom coughed again. "Ris claims she wants to spend more time with her family, so she sent Vanessa and Danny-boy back home."

Pam's ears had perked up at the sound of Daniel's name. She pulled a pen from her purse and began to write on a stray napkin. _Larissa?_

Jim nodded at her. He shrugged helplessly.

_Can I help? _She wrote next. Jim shrugged again, eyes softer.

"Jim, you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jim pressed the phone closer to his ear. "So, I'll be there around seven."

"Yeah." Tom nodded. "Trust me, I'm not contagious."

"Wasn't worried." Jim didn't say goodbye, quickly hanging up.

"Family troubles?" Pam asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. Jim didn't know what to say. He slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket and clasped his hands together.

"Elijah's been staying with Tom and Isabella for the past three days." Jim whispered.

"I can't imagine why Pete would want to be away from his son at a time like this." Pam wondered.

"Yeah, me either." Jim looked away, at a loss for words. He could not sum up his brother's actions more than he could sum up his own.

"Did Tom want you to do something?" Pam asked knowingly.

"What?" Jim looked back at her, and saw her expression. "No." he lied. "No, everything's fine." He took in a deep breath. "Pete will come around. I know he will."


	20. Wary Acceptance

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty

* * *

"In every conceivable manner, the family is [the] link to our past, [the] bridge to our future"

~Alex Haley

He came alone to dinner, just as he said. There was no need to involve Pam anymore than she already was. As he stood outside Tom and Isabella's front door, Jim tried not to peer inside the window. He did not want to appear too anxious. He was here on Pete and Eli's behalf.

He hoped Tom would keep his temper down.

Jim slowly brought his hand up to the doorbell and pressed it. His hands slipped into the pockets of his coat casually.

Katie, the dog, barked immediately at the noise. Jim heard a chirpy, "he's here!", from Elijah and Tom's coughing. Isabella asked Elijah to answer the door, and Jim heard the pounding of feet against the hardwood as Eli raced towards the door.

All this noise and Jim was still outside in the cold, dark night.

"Uncle Jim!" Elijah threw open the door, beaming at Jim.

"Eli!" Jim's face lit up. "How are you, little man?"

"Great," Eli grabbed his uncle's arm and led him into the house. "I've had three sleepovers in a row."

"Really," Jim muttered, walking towards the kitchen until he realized Eli had stopped leading him there. He turned around. Elijah was staring at him curiously. Jim raised his eyebrows accordingly.

"Did you bring her?" Eli asked.

"Who?" Jim frowned.

"Miss Pam. Did you bring her with you?"

"What?" Jim asked weakly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, no, bud. I…she's not coming tonight. We—well; I mean…we're friends. That's all."

"Oh." Elijah hung his head. Jim stared at him sadly.

"Jim?" Tom poked his head out from the kitchen, Katie at his heels.

"Whoa, Tom, you _are _sick." Jim said, coming up to his brother. Tom slapped him on the back. Jim was right. Tom was paler than usual, and his nose was slightly pink.

"Fit as a fiddle, Jim, you remember that." Tom retorted. "I could still take you."

"Yeah." Jim nodded dully, kneeling down and petting Katie. "Sure."

"Hey, listen, man, I appreciate you coming over like this." Tom changed the subject, beckoning Elijah into the kitchen.

"No problem." Jim stood up again and looked at his older brother. Tom was the shortest of the Halpert siblings, measuring around five feet eleven inches. Tom, for his part, often over-compensated to make up for the "lack" of height. His shoulders squared as soon as Jim stood up, towering over him.

"Wanna head in?" Tom asked. "We're almost done."

"We?" Jim asked.

"You know…she." Tom rolled his eyes. "Smartass."

"Whoa there, Elijah can hear you." Jim shook his head at his brother and headed in the kitchen.

"Hello, Jim." Isabella smiled sweetly at Jim as she passed him, setting a bowl of pasta down on the dinner table. "How are you?"

"Fine," he mumbled. She reached up and kissed his cheek good-naturedly. Her lips were soft.

"_I-I love _you."_ Jim broke free. With desperate, ecstatic hands, he grabbed her cheeks, pressing his lips hungrily to hers. Their first kiss. _

_Her lips were so soft, so perfect, everything he had dreamed of. Everything he had longed for. Oh, he had _longed _for this. _

_His hands kneaded small circles into her precious skin. His lips connected again and again with hers. His eyes had long since slipped shut, blocking out the world around him. _

_His hands dropped lower. To her shoulders. He rubbed her shoulders. His lips stayed in place as he pressed himself closer to her warmth. The tip of his tongue grazed her lower lip. _

"Jim." Tom's voice broke through the vivid memory. Jim blinked, focusing back to reality. Isabella stared at him, smiling weakly. Jim realized he had been gripping her arm.

"S-sorry." He let go of her quickly and joined Eli at the table. How could he have confused Isabella for Pam? What a fool he was.

"All right, well, dinner's ready." Isabella smoothed out her skirt. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes!" Eli cheered. "This is leftover from last night." He whispered to Jim.

"Elijah!" Isabella whirled around, cheeks flushed.

"Secret's out!" Tom grinned at his wife, who looked sheepish. "And another thing, Jim, dessert expired three years ago."

"No, I made it this afternoon!" Isabella glowered at her laughing husband and brother-in-law as she took a seat at the small table.

"She's right." Tom smiled. "It's good, Jim."

"Yeah?" Jim nodded. "I'm sure it is."

"Can we eat now?" Eli asked. The adults smiled at each other.

* * *

"So, how do you like baseball, Eli?" Jim asked while the Halperts enjoyed a slice of pie.

"We got a new coach." Eli beamed, happy to talk about something that interested him for once. "He's a really cool guy, and he's nice to everyone on the team."

"Yeah, what's his name, bud?" Tom asked, looking up. "Coach Garrett?"

"Yeah." Eli nodded.

"Show Uncle Jim what happened yesterday at practice," Isabella nodded knowingly at Elijah, who rolled up his shirt sleeve. An ugly bruise marked his smooth shoulder. Jim frowned.

"How did you get that?" he asked cautiously.

"I got hit with a baseball." Eli shrugged. "Coach Garrett says I'm tough, though. He likes me."

"Oh." Jim still wasn't convinced that Eli was okay. "Good sport."

"Those children are vicious." Isabella continued, shaking her head in amusement. "Honestly, I don't even want to know what T-ball was like."

"Pretty wild." Tom retorted. He and Isabella glanced at each other, laughing.

"Can I play with Katie, now?" Elijah asked. Tom nodded and Elijah was off, chasing after the surprised Beagle, who had been waiting for someone to drop some food from the table. The adults watched him leave.

"Well, at least this Harland guy can be some sort of influence to Eli." Tom spoke as soon as Elijah couldn't hear them. "He's seems like a classy guy. I've only spoken to him a few times, but he's pretty good with those kids."

"Speaking of that," Isabella put in, "we want to talk about Pete."

"What's really wrong with him?" Jim asked warily.

Tom leaned back against his chair, sighing. "He's not letting anyone come over to his place, Eli hasn't been home in nearly a week, and he's only spoken to me over the phone since the funeral."

"I hadn't thought about calling Pete." Jim admitted. "I should have."

"Listen, about what I said earlier today…" Tom paused. "I think he will call you, soon. Pete's having every relative under the moon look after Elijah, and pretty soon he'll run out of options and call you. He's already…well, I mean, Bell and I are looking after Eli now.

"And what am I supposed to say, Jim? As Eli's uncle. I can't just say 'no', and pretend he doesn't exist."

"Pete's isolated himself in his house." Isabella stood up and began to collect the dishes. Tom began to help her.

"Do you think Larissa would help?" Jim asked suddenly. Tom stopped cold, his hand reaching to grab Jim's plate.

"Why?" Tom asked gruffly.

"You said she was home; couldn't she talk with Pete?"

"I don't want to talk about Ris." Tom said, taking Jim's plate. "She's a different story entirely."

Jim held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. We won't talk about Larissa."

Tom nodded to himself, placing a plate in the dishwasher.

Elijah had since returned to the kitchen, his baseball cap placed back on his head. The conversation quieted. Jim looked down at the table.

"Uncle Tom?"

"Yeah, bud?" Tom asked, craning his neck to see his nephew.

"Can I stay with Uncle Jim, tonight?"

There was a long pause. Elijah and Tom turned to look at Jim, whose eyes were wide. Isabella touched her husband's chest lightly and whispered something into his ear.

"Well," Jim took in a deep breath, seeing that he was the only one able to answer the pending question. "I don't see why not. I have a roommate though, at my apartment."

"Please, Uncle Jim?" Eli pressed. "I want to go on an adventure."

Jim was silent again. He glanced at his older brother, who shrugged helplessly at him. Jim shrugged back, before turning to Eli.

"You better get packed."

"Yes!" Eli bounded to his room to gather his things. Tom followed him.

Isabella smiled warily at Jim, who sat at the table wondering what he had just done.

"Here," she came over to him and gave him a piece of paper. "Tom already has a copy, and so do your parents."

"What is it?" Jim asked, picking up the crinkled paper subtly. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Just the usual. Elijah's school's address, phone numbers, you know, just in case."

"In case of what?"

Isabella's eyes softened, and she looked very melancholy. Tom and Eli could be heard from down the hall, speaking and laughing. "I have a feeling this won't be the last time you take care of Elijah." She said softly.

Jim gulped.


	21. Two and a Half Men

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-one

* * *

"Family is not an important thing, it's everything"

~Michael J. Fox

Jim wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. Here he was, a single twenty-something taking care of his eight year-old nephew as if he was his own son. Tom called it 'extended babysitting'. All because Pete was unresponsive and apathetic.

"I like your home." Elijah spoke first, staring up at Jim. "It's cool."

Jim looked down at him. His apartment was shabby to say the least, and he and his roommate hardly cleaned the place.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "Cool."

"Does Pam live here?" Elijah asked next, adjusting his ball cap.

"What?" Jim frowned, taking Elijah's small, light suitcase in his hand.

"Doesn't she live here?" Elijah asked again, peering around the place. "I thought people who loved each other lived together."

Jim froze, his grip on Elijah's suitcase slackening.

"Jimbo, hey, I got your voicemail-" Mark strolled into the apartment, opening the door loudly. He had a few grocery bags in his hands, and when he saw Elijah he stopped, looking up at his roommate. Mark slowly raised his eyebrows.

"You weren't kidding?" Mark almost laughed, setting down the bags in the kitchenette.

"Uh, Eli, this is my roommate, Mark." Jim cleared his throat. "Mark, this is Eli."

"Yeah,' Mark nodded, searching through the bags. "Your nephew, right?"

"Yep, this is him."

"How'd you get that shiner, Elijah?"

"Oh, baseball practice." Eli shrugged. "It was an accident. It doesn't hurt."

"Jim, this kid's tough!" Mark laughed and pulled a bag of Doritos out of the grocery bag. "You like taco Doritos, Eli?"

"Yeah!" Eli cheered. Jim considered how Julia would react to Eli eating this late at night.

"How 'bout basketball? You like that, too? I see you're repping the Phillies, but it's not baseball season yet."

"I play basketball, too." Eli said quickly, and followed Mark to the couch in front of the television.

"Want a beer, Jim?" Mark called.

"Uh, Mark…" Jim shook his head at Mark. "Not tonight, okay?"

"Sure, man, I understand." Mark shrugged. "No alcohol tonight."

"My daddy drinks in front of me." Eli said hurriedly. "It's okay if you have a beer, Daddy just told me not to have one."

"Really," Mark nodded, and glanced at Jim, who looked disappointed. How often had Pete been drinking since Julia's death?

Jim didn't want to watch basketball tonight. He only wished to figure out when Elijah could come home again. He wanted Pete to take his son back.

* * *

Mark called it a night when Elijah fell asleep during the halftime report. He turned off the television and headed to Jim's room, poking his head in the door. Jim had changed to sweatpants and his white undershirt and was talking on the phone to one of his brothers—Mark assumed the one that wasn't a widower.

"Hey man," Mark interrupted. "He's out."

Jim looked up at him, nodding his thanks. Mark noted how tired Jim looked, but figured he shouldn't say anything. He quietly headed towards his room.

Saying goodbye to Tom, Jim slipped his phone in his pocket. He rose to go get Eli.

There were only two bedrooms in the apartment, so Jim opted to take the couch so Elijah could get his bed. As Tom had told him in their conversation, Elijah loved any bed bigger than his regular twin-sized mattress, so at least one of them would be sleeping comfortably.

Mark had been correct—Elijah was curled up on the couch, his ball cap low over his head so that his eyes were covered by the red hat. He held a Dorito chip in his hand, untouched. Jim took it and tossed it on the table. He considered picking Elijah up, but he knew Julia would have a fit if he let Elijah go to sleep wearing jeans and tennis shoes. He softly rubbed his nephew's back.

"All right, buddy, c'mon." Jim whispered.

"Uncle Jim?" Eli stirred.

"Yeah, buddy. It's me." Jim nodded.

"What time is it?"

"Time for you to get your pajamas on and brush your teeth, okay? You can sleep in my room, tonight."

"Where will you sleep?" Eli asked.

"Right here." Jim patted the couch, covered with a few magazines, Dorito crumbs, and a drowsy eight year-old.

"Oh." Eli quickly brushed the crumbs onto the floor.

"Go get ready for bed." Jim said. He rubbed his face, biting back a yawn.

"Okay." Eli hopped off the couch, dragging his suitcase to Jim's room. Jim waited for the door to close before he began to clean the couch and get ready to sleep.

* * *

"Uncle Jim, Uncle Jim, please wake up." Elijah frantically nudged his sleeping uncle, who wasn't moving. The boy was pale and shaking. He tugged at the scratchy blanket covering Jim and pulled it off. "Uncle Jim!" he called again.

Jim stirred, rolling on his side. His eyes slowly slipped open. Elijah had grabbed his arms and was shaking them.

"Elijah?" Jim was dazed. He glanced at the clock above the television. It wasn't even six in the morning. "Elijah, what's wrong?"

"Uncle Jim, I had a bad dream." Elijah whispered, eyes wide.

Jim sat up, running a hand along his face. He was not sure what to say. "I-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Elijah was in his arms, breathing heavily. Still too lethargic to register much, Jim returned the hug. Elijah's hair was soft and curly, pressed against Jim's neck. Jim felt his muscles tighten around Elijah's small back.

"I'm sorry, Eli." Jim said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"I was so lonely." Elijah whispered. "Your room is so lonely."

"I know." Jim patted his nephew's back. "I know, bud."

"Uncle Jim," Elijah pulled back. Jim hoisted him up and onto the couch so they could sit next to each other. "Does Pam live alone?"

"What?" Jim frowned.

"Does she live alone?"

"Well, yes. Why?"

"Do you think she's lonely?" Elijah asked. "I don't want her to be lonely, Uncle Jim."

Jim was silent. He looked over at the clock again, mulling over Elijah's words.

"I don't know, Elijah." Jim dropped his head in his hands, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I think Pam might be a little lonely."

"You should go visit her." Elijah tapped his uncle's shoulder. "Can I go with you?"

Jim glanced at his nephew and smiled softly. "I think she would like that, too, bud." He patted Eli's back.

"All right, when do you need to get ready for school? I'll drop you off before work."


	22. Delirious

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-two

* * *

"Family...the home of all social evil, a charitable institution for comfortable women, an anchorage for house-fathers, and a hell for children"

~J. August Strindberg

"Well, how was your first night?" Tom spoke eagerly through the phone. Jim, now dressed and ready for work, waited by the toaster for his bread. His phone was pressed to his ear.

"My roommate seems to like him." Jim noted, looking over at Elijah, who was quickly eating a bowl of cereal. Mark had already left for work, but made sure to say goodbye to Elijah on his way out.

"Good to hear."

"Yeah," Jim turned away from Elijah, so that he wouldn't hear the next bit of conversation. "The only thing is, Tom, he had a nightmare. Are they common?"

"Yeah." Tom sighed. "I probably should have told you, sorry, man. Ever since Julia died…well, yeah."

"Is there anything I should do?" Jim asked warily. A piece of white bread popped out of the toaster. Jim placed it on his plate and reached for a knife.

"Listen, why don't we talk about that later?" Tom seemed to be in a hurry. "I've got to get to work. I just called to say that Isabella will pick up Elijah after baseball practice today. You don't have to worry about that."

"Thanks, man. I'll tell Elijah."

"Also," Tom started. "If he asks to stay over again, just bring him here, okay? I know you've got a roommate and all, so I don't want your apartment to be too crowded."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked, spreading peanut butter on his toast. He glanced back at Elijah and took his empty bowl before returning to his toast.

"Positive." Tom answered. "Why don't you just come over for dinner tonight and you can bring his suitcase then?"

"Two nights in a row, I'm flattered." Jim joked.

"Yeah, well don't get too used to it." Tom retorted. "And why don't you bring your girlfriend, dammit?"

"We're not-"

"Hey, you don't have to explain your complicated history to me, man. I'm just extending the invitation."

"I'll think about it, man." Jim sighed. "I…I don't want to bring her into this mess."

"You mean your family?" Tom laughed. "That hurts, bro. All right, I've got to go. Talk to you later."

"Later." Jim nodded, hanging up. He slipped on his coat and stuck his piece of toast in his mouth, grabbing his keys and gesturing for Elijah to follow him to the car.

* * *

Elijah's school day started earlier than Dunder Mifflin's day did. As Jim pulled into work, he couldn't help but note how early he was. He would probably be the first one in the building, but he didn't feel foolish. He felt as good about himself as he had in days. He was finally doing something to help his family. Perhaps Julia's death had changed him for the better. Maybe Julia's death taught him to hold onto the things he cared about.

Speaking of which.

Pam got out of her car, then, binders in her delicate hands. Her pale, pink pea coat was familiar and comforting and Jim. Smiling, he hurried out of his car.

"Pam, hey." Jim tried to act as casual as possible, but his cheeks were flushed and he was almost _jittery_. He wanted to hug Pam, or kiss her, something of that matter.

"Jim?" Pam was surprised to see him. She tucked some curly, brunette locks behind her ear and adjusted the binders in her hands. She really needed a box to carry them in. They were reports from accounting that she had organized, color-coded, and highlighted for Michael Scott. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I had to drop Elijah off at school. Are you always the first one here?" Jim was so nervous his words came out quickly.

"Well, Michael usually is, but I'm always second." Pam almost smiled at his unnatural nerves. "Are you all right, Jim? How's Elijah?"

"I'm great. Never felt better." Jim nodded. "Need help with those binders?"

"Please," Pam handed him one, but he took all of them.

"Do you want to go to dinner?" He asked with a small shrug, his fingers curled around the binders.

"Excuse me?" Pam asked, shocked.

"Come to Tom's house with me for dinner." Jim spoke again, more serious.

"Do you need support again?" Pam guessed, reaching out to touch his arm. "Of course, I'll-"

"No. No, this is nothing like that. I don't need support. I want a date." Jim almost laughed. "I want you to be my date. I want to date _you_."

Pam looked away. She was silent. For a moment, the adrenaline rush Jim was so enjoying faded away, and doubt seeped through his pores. He began to worry he had said too much. The grip on Pam's binders slackened.

And then, Pam looked at him again, a smile growing on her perfect face. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The binders fell to the ground.

Pam pulled back, glancing at the binders for a moment before turning back to Jim and kissing him on the lips.

* * *

From his window in his Dunder Mifflin office, Michael Scott and a plethora of cameras watched the embrace with wide eyes. Jim and Pam? The thought had never occurred to Michael. He turned to the nearest camera, utterly shocked and deliriously happy.

"Who knew?" He mouthed, shaking his head. A cameraman rolled his eyes at Michael, zooming into the two through the blinds.

* * *

Jim wrapped his arms around Pam's waist and deepened their kiss. He couldn't decide to count this as a joyous victory or as a wonderful surrender to feelings and emotion.

"Wait," Pam pulled back, stopping him. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" Jim reached for her again.

"Not at work."

"But-"

"No." Pam shook her head, bending down to pick up the binders. She smiled at Jim and walked into the office, a little strut in her step.

* * *

The camera crew at Dunder Mifflin was quite perceptive that day. They caught Pam squeezing Jim's hand at lunch, they looks the two gave each other, how Jim couldn't stop staring at his secretary, and even Dwight's confused glances at the two of them. Michael, of course, was ecstatic. He wanted to hold a meeting to tell everyone the good news, but Pam begged him not to.

As Rocco, a cameraman, adjusted Jim's microphone, he couldn't help but smirk. Michael's happy endorphins sent a wave of joy throughout the entire office. Angela was acting civil to her other accountants, and Stanley hadn't touched his crossword. Yet.

"So, Jim, we've just have one question for you." Rocco said, standing behind the cameraman.

"Just one?" Jim asked.

"Just one. Did you kiss Pam this morning?"

Jim raised his eyebrows and smirked. He was silent for a moment, and seemed lost in his memories before blinking and looking back at the camera. "Yeah," he admitted smugly. "And I'm taking her to dinner tonight."


	23. Coach Garrett

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-three

* * *

"Family life is too intimate to be preserved by the spirit of justice. It can be sustained by a spirit of love which goes beyond justice"

~Reinhold Niebuhr

Pam couldn't decide which heels to wear.

She knew she shouldn't be making such a big deal out of a small predicament, but this was her first date with Jim, there was nothing small about it. She was going to dinner with his brother and sister-in-law. Pam had never considered Jim to be such a family man until she was sucked into his life at the death of his sister-in-law. She quite liked the idea of being so involved in Jim's family. She loved to be around the Halperts, and admired their infallibility during crisis. From her point of view, they were a strong family who dealt with their troubles. The thought consoled her.

But she needed to figure out which shoes to wear.

Smoothing out her dress, Pam stared at herself in the mirror. She could see her apartment door behind her, as well as her pale, creamy skin, and delicate necklace. Her hair had been pulled into a tight braid, but, now that Pam looked at herself, she hated the hairstyle. She hurriedly began to take it out. _A braid?_ She chastised herself. She wasn't in high school. Perhaps she could just-

A sharp knock on her door caught Pam's attention. _That had to be Jim,_ Pam realized fretfully. She wasn't ready yet.

"Pam?" Jim called from outside. "Can I come in?"

"S-sure!" Pam called, smoothing out her hair. She watched from her window as Jim opened the door and slowly stepped into the room.

His hair was combed, as neat as it had been on the day of Julia's funeral. He wore a dark, maroon sweater and khakis. His boyish looks, however, were not masked by his mature persona. His eyes crinkled into a smile as he saw Pam. No doubt he was remembering their kiss at Dunder Mifflin.

"Oh, hi, Jim, I'm almost ready, promise. Five minutes." Pam spoke quickly, flushed. He looked so flawlessly handsome, and here she was barefoot and brushing her hair.

He was silent, and nodded only slightly. He took a seat on the arm rest of chair and watched her quietly.

"Are you okay?" Pam asked, frowning. Finally satisfied with her hair, she slipped on a pair of nude heels, leaning her hand against the wall to steady herself.

"What?" He had been watching her feet. "Oh, yeah." Jim stuffed his hands in his pockets. He did not know what to say. He had never been more nervous in his life. His first date with the woman of his dreams. How could he be this lucky?

"That's good." Pam smiled sweetly. She was near him, now, grabbing his hand.

"We're just going to Tom's place." Jim whispered, their faces close to each other, now. "There's no need to dress up."

"No heels, then?" Pam raised an eyebrow.

"Uh…well, heels are fine." Jim corrected himself. "The heels work." He kissed her hand. "You look beautiful."

"I hope so." Pam sighed in relief. "I spent _forever_ getting ready."

"I'll remember that." Jim laughed. He squeezed her hand, and the two headed out the door.

* * *

"So, Pete and Elijah are better, now?" Pam brought up the question after dinner to Isabella and Tom. The four adults were sitting together in the family room, facing each other. Tom had his arm around Isabella, and, upon hearing the question, groaned.

"Better?" He shook his head. "Today, Eli came back from baseball practice with a bruise on his arm. Apparently, he was hit by some kid with a ball."

"What?" Jim leaned forward, frowning.

"Yeah," Tom nodded in agreement. "Pete called me, all worked up, trying to figure out which kid hit Eli, but Eli isn't saying anything. He claims it was an accident."

"So, it was?" Jim asked.

"I don't believe that for a freaking second." Tom answered quickly. "No way. Listen, Jim, this is what I think: Eli is vulnerable and submissive right now. These kids, they know he's weak…his mom just died. Of course they're going to beat him around. He's not going to stop them."

"Tom," Isabella touched her husband's arm lightly, her eyebrows wrinkled together. Tom, who realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat, scooted back. Jim looked down. He was not surprised that Tom had jumped to such conclusions.

"Wait a minute," Pam interjected, "What is Pete doing to help?"

Isabella shrugged hopelessly. "Pete hasn't left his house since Julia died. It's not like he's been going to Eli's games."

"What about work?" Jim asked.

"He's been using up his personal days." Isabella answered.

"Those are temporary. He'll use 'em all up, soon." Tom muttered.

"So, Pete hasn't left his house, but Eli has continued with his life?" Pam tried to wrap her head around the situation.

"Eli has been staying at our house a few nights a week, now." Tom explained. "Pete hasn't helped him out at all." He sighed. "Eli…he's damn good at baseball, and the new coach needs him there every day, since he's so good."

"New coach?" Jim asked, looking up. He had no idea there was a change in coaches.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tom nodded. "Coach Garrett. That's his first name, by the way, Garrett. He doesn't like to use his last name around the kids."

"Really?" Jim frowned. "And he keeps Eli there every day?"

"Don't kids need a break?" Pam agreed.

"Don't worry about it." Tom pushed aside the worry. "I'm proud of the little guy. Garrett likes his stuff."

"He's got to be exhausted."

"Don't be such a baby, Jim. This is what it takes to be an athlete." Tom pointed knowingly at Jim, who sat back with a shrug. He supposed his older brother was right. He looked over at Pam, who seemed as worried as him.

* * *

The drive home from dinner was quiet for Jim and Pam. They were full from the dinner Isabella has prepared (which was just as good as always). Jim was more silent than Pam, his hands curling around the steering wheel.

"Jim," Pam whispered, not wanting to break the cloud of silence. She did not mind not speaking, she just enjoyed being with Jim. "Jim, what's the matter?"

He let out a soft, anxious breath. "I'm worried," he admitted. "Coach Garrett should give these kids time off, even if Eli is good. I mean, he's only a kid. He…he needs to focus on mourning, not on sports. It's not good for him."

"You sound like you're coming from experience." Pam noted. Jim laughed softly, flipping on his turn signal.

"You're good, Beesly." Jim admitted, reaching for her hand. "Uh, yeah, I do know what he's going through."

Pam was silent, waiting for Jim to continue.

"Uh, when my grandmother died—my father's mother—I really focused on basketball. It became my life. My grandma, she was really the driving force of my family, you know. So, uh, when she died it really shattered my family. Larissa, she left the house and didn't come back. Tom developed some anger issues. Pete and my parents had to take care of everyone, especially Tom. They were always looking after Tom. And now, well, we're taking care of Pete."

"And who is taking care of you?" Pam asked softly. Jim stopped in front of the apartment building and stared at Pam. He had never considered the question.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Jim." Pam did not make him answer the question. She kissed him briefly on the lips, her smooth hand coming to touch his clean-shaven cheek.

"Mmm," Jim pulled back. "I have a proposition for you."

"For me?" Pam smiled cheekily.

"For you." Jim repeated. "My college is having a…a sort of get-together for all the graduates."

"Like what?" Pam asked.

"It's…sort of, kind of like a dance."

"Oh." Pam nodded. "So you need a dancing partner."

"Preferably. Plus, I heard you're the best dancer in town."

"Right." Pam rolled her eyes. "I'd love to go."

"Great." Jim was beaming. He kissed her once more.


	24. Property

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-four

* * *

"Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city"  
― George Burns

The clock on his nightstand read three in the morning. Next to the clock was a rugged wallet and charging phone. Tom Halpert was out cold.

His arms were woven around Isabella's smooth, flat chest. His chin, rugged and slightly stubbly, rested near her blonde head. His chest moved up and down evenly against his wife's bare back. His dreams were playing a movie in his mind, and he was the only person permitted inside the theater.

_Julia smiled knowingly at him, adjusting Tom's hand to account for baby Elijah's head. He always held him wrong. Sheepishly, Tom held onto his nephew a little tighter. It would not be long before Pete walked in, and then, of course, he would have none of his little brother hogging his child. If only Pete could see him now—_

Three, persistent knocks captured Tom's attention. His eyes flew open. More knocks.

Isabella stirred. Her hands squeezed Tom's arm. No doubt she was thinking the same thing he was: _who could be at the door at this hour? _

"Stay here," Tom whispered cautiously, his muscles rigid against Isabella. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. "I'll check this out."

Isabella nodded, rolling onto her back. She pulled the covers closer to her. Tom slipped out of the comfortable bed and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants as quickly as he could. The knocking continued and Tom trudged to the front door and flung it open.

Pete stared back at Tom, his eyes lifeless and dull, with dark bags underneath. Tom wasn't sure what to say. Pete seemed to be dressed well enough, and he was clean-shaven, but Tom knew that Pete was hardly feeling well. His wife had died.

"Pete-"

"I want Elijah back." Pete's unnaturally gruff voice cut through Tom's quiet whisper. Tom held onto the doorknob cautiously. Elijah had come over after dinner with his grandparents. He was staying the night in the guest room again, a room that had become his second home.

Tom cleared his throat, rocking on the heels of his feet. "Why?" he asked softly.

"_W-Why?"_ Pete scoffed. "Why do you think? He's my son. I want to see my son again."

"I don't think Eli should be home just yet." Tom muttered, rubbing a broad shoulder.

"Dammit, Tom, I-" Pete stopped, closing his eyes. He wanted to be cautious as well. It would not serve him right to make Tom angry, which was easily done. "Listen: I know Elijah will be safer at home."

"Safer?" Tom frowned.

"Well, you know…" Pete stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking in a deep breath. "My son has been getting hurt, you know."

"Some kids are messing with him at practice." Tom added.

"I just think that, if Elijah was around his father more, maybe the kids would stop messing with him." Pete shrugged.

"What is that supposed to me?" Tom hissed, stepping forward.

"Well, come on, Tom, you were pushed around as a kid, maybe it's some sort of-"

"What the hell, Pete?" Tom snapped. "Why would you say that? Honestly? You think we haven't been taking care of Elijah? You practically dumped him on our doorstep!"

Pete stayed outside, not overstepping his boundaries. "I just want my son back." He held up his hands in surrender. "It was stupid to leave him for so long."

"Yeah, it was." Tom growled.

"Can you please go get my son?" Pete pleaded.

Tom stared at Pete, his teeth clenched together. "Fine," he grumbled. He let Pete come in and then shut the door. Pete took a seat in a nearby chair and waited patiently. Tom watched him sit and then began towards the end of the hallway.

The door to the guest room was closed, and Tom quickly opened it. Elijah was fast asleep, curled under the covers of the large bed. Tom didn't want to wake him. He didn't want to send his only nephew back with his depressed father to their bleak home.

But he was. Because Pete told him to.

"Elijah," Tom patted the lump of covers Elijah had hidden under. "Hey, buddy, I need you to get up."

Groaning softly, Elijah poked his head out of the covers. His shaggy, light, brunette hair was sticking up and out of place. Large, innocent eyes stared back to Tom. "Why?" he asked curiously.

"Have you had time to unpack, bud?" Tom asked, sitting down on the bed.

"No." Elijah sat up and shook his head. "Everything's still there."

"Good." Tom rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Eli, I've got to tell you something: your dad's here to take you home-"

"Really?" Elijah's eyes lit up, noticeable even in the dark room.

"Yeah." Tom sighed. "He told me to get you packed up."

"Yay!" Elijah, with renewed energy, hopped out of the bed, nearly taking the covers with him, if his uncle had not held them back. Grabbing his suitcase, Elijah headed towards the door.

"Whoa, hold on there, Eli." Tom grabbed his nephew's arm and pulled him back. "Don't you have shoes or anything that you need?"

"I put my shoes in my suitcase." Eli answered. He was nearly bouncing with excitement. "And Aunt Izzy put my toothbrush and stuff back in my suitcase before I went to bed. I'm already packed."

"A-are you sure?" Tom repeated.

"Yeah, honest!"

Tom bowed his head, letting go of his nephew. "All right," he sighed. "Your dad's at the end of the hall."

Elijah threw open the door without another word, his sock-covered heels hitting the hardwood with tiny _plunks_ until he ran into his father's arms. Tom could hear their reunion from inside the guest room. He stood in the dark vicinity, hands loose at his sides. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

"Uncle Tom!" Eli called to Tom, who sighed and walked over to his family after shutting the door to the guest room. He smiled stiffly at Eli. Pete patted his brother's shoulder.

"I don't see why you were so worried, Tommy, Eli and I-"

"Tom?" Isabella appeared from their bedroom, frowning. "What's going on?"

Pete's forced smile faded. Isabella was dressed loosely in a house robe. The loose garment revealed much of her skin. Her blonde hair was messy. Peering into the master bedroom, Pete caught a glimpse of the strewn covers. Tom reached out to her.

"Oh. Well, that makes perfect sense." Pete spoke suddenly. Tom frowned, looking at his older brother in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Isabella asked before Tom could.

"Oh, you know, I was wondering why Tom took so long answering the door. Sorry if I _interrupted_ anything."

"Don't be ridiculous." Tom snapped immediately, although the tips of his ears had flushed. "Elijah was in the room next to us, we're not that arrogant."

"What?" Elijah frowned, looking up at his father.

"We better get going, buddy, don't you think?" Pete turned towards his son. "Why don't you thank your aunt and uncle?"

Eli started to hug his aunt and uncle, but Pete held him back. "A 'thank you' works too, little man."

Eli thanked them, per his father's request. Tom bit his lip to keep from yelling at his brother. What, were he and Isabella damaged goods, now? He noticed Pete staring at Isabella with startling conviction. Pete's gaze then turned to Tom.

"Eli, buddy, why don't you put your bag in the trunk, okay?" Pete said without breaking eye contact with Tom. Eli nodded and headed outside.

"Thanks again for taking care of my son." Pete nodded at the two of them. "But, like I said, that won't be necessary any longer. You two can get back to…well, you know."

"Hey-" Tom followed Pete to the door, stopping Pete before he walked off the front step.

"Hey." Pete raised his eyebrows at his brother. "I thought we already said hello-"

"You listen to me, Pete." Tom snapped. "You better be damn near perfect with that kid, got it?"

"What do you think I'm going to do to him, Tom? Honestly!" Pete threw up his hands. "He's my _son_."

"And my nephew. And Bell's nephew. Got that? Take care of him."

"Anything else?" Pete rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, actually, there is." Tom stepped closer to Pete. "Don't ever stare at my wife like that again."

Pete held back a laugh, looking down. "Okay, deal. And, as long as were being threatening here, don't ever screw around with _your wife _while my son's only a wall away."

Tom was silent, his hand gripping the side of the door so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"That's what I thought." Pete scoffed. "And you lied to me in front of my son, too. Hasn't been a real good night for you, Tom." Pete turned around and left quickly. Tom watched him go until Pete got into his car. Then, he closed the front door quietly. He didn't want to turn around for fear of Isabella's worried expression. He didn't want to open the door for fear of Pete.

Tom slapped his hand against the door and cursed.


	25. Vanessa's Words

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-five

* * *

"The capacity for friendship is God's way of apologizing for our families"

― Jay McInerney, _The Last of the Savages_

April 3, 2006.

Time had passed for the Halperts as slowly as it ever had. Little had changed. Jim and Pam were going steady in their relationship, Pete was slowly returning to work, and Elijah continued to play baseball.

That was what worried Jim the most. Elijah often returned home from practice hiding his bruises under his jacket. Jim definitely knew something was wrong every time he picked up his nephew from the field. He wouldn't say a thing to his uncle during the ride home. Not one word. Jim tried to push pass the worry, however. He was seeing more of his nephew then Tom and Isabella were combined. Pete had become very overprotective since he took his son back. Tom and Isabella hardly ever saw their nephew any longer. Jim was only permitted to see Eli because he hadn't been so overbearing after Julia's death, in Pete's eyes.

"Jim?" Pam looked over at him as they sat in the car. Jim was staring blankly out the window, his hand curled around his keys. "Are you ready?"

"What?" Jim looked over at her, frowning. He seemed to realize where he was. He plastered a soft smile on his face and nodded. "Yeah." He almost laughed. "Sorry."

"Maybe we should have picked a different restaurant." Pam put in carefully.

"No." Jim took the keys out of the ignition in response. "No, this is good. What's wrong with this place?"

Pam didn't have to answer that question. Jim knew the significance of this restaurant. This was the same place Jim found out about Julia's death. How long had it been? Jim didn't want to count the days. He got out of the car and went around to open the door for Pam.

"Thank you, kind sir." Pam flushed and gave a little courtesy.

"Certainly, malady." Jim bowed and grabbed her hand. They walked into the restaurant together.

"Wouldn't it be weird if we saw-" Pam stopped mid sentence, for Jim had frozen at her side. She looked up at him and followed his gaze to a table in the back of the restaurant.

Larissa.

"Oh." Pam whispered.

"Oh." Jim nodded. Larissa, her daughter, Vanessa, and Jim's parents were enjoying lunch. Jim thought he heard something about his sister being in town, but he had pushed aside the thought. Larissa looked as uptight as ever, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her wedding ring glinted against the soft lighting of the room.

"So, I'm guessing you want a table as far away as possible from her?" Pam asked knowingly. Jim nodded again in relief. At least Pam understood. Or, at least, she tried to understand. She began to lead him to the other side of the room.

"James?"

Jim nearly cursed at the sound of his full name. Pam had already snagged a table. He wondered if he could tap on the edge of the salad bar in Morse code and that she would somehow understand. He slowly turned around.

"Sorry, I mean Jim. Ris always calls you James. How are you, man?" Daniel, Larissa's husband, clapped Jim on the back with a strong hand. The shorter man wore a Coast Guard t-shirt, tucked into a pair of fitting jeans. His smile, however, was infectious and genuine. Jim's façade slowly broke, and he shook his brother-in-law's hand.

"I'm…I'm fine." Jim cleared his throat. "Didn't know you were back in town."

"Yeah, yeah, just for a bit. Vanessa missed her uncles."

"Really?" Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Sure, she's always talking about you guys. I'm just sorry her most recent memory of you three is at Julia's funeral." Dan rubbed his cropped hair. "How is Pete, by the way?"

Jim shrugged helplessly. "Elijah's back with him, now."

"Why? Where did Elijah go?" Dan frowned.

Oh. Jim had forgotten how out-of-the-loop Larissa's family was. Well, except when Julia died.

"It's a long story, but Eli's been staying with anyone but Pete for a while there." Jim said quickly. He heard tapping in the background and whipped around to see Pam using Morse code and giving him a mischievous smile. He winked at her.

"I see you brought your friend to lunch." Dan nodded towards Pam and waved at her.

"Yeah," Jim nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I did." He paused. "Actually, she's my girlfriend."

"Hey, good for you, man." Dan clapped him on the back again. Jim steadied himself from his strong hand.

"Yeah. Well, I better get back-"

"Hey, none of that. You're family. You two can come sit with us." Daniel insisted.

"Well-"

"C'mon, it'll be harmless." Dan beckoned for Pam to join him. "My little girl's dying to see you. You know, you hardly ever write back to her."

"Well-" Jim shrugged helplessly again, wondering what he was getting himself into.

* * *

Daniel was right. Vanessa was overjoyed to see her uncle, and she scooted over in between Jim and Pam. Jim's parents smiled at Pam, whom they didn't see often enough. Larissa was the only one not greeting anyone, Jim noted sourly. She hardly looked at Jim and gave Pam a disgusted look.

"Daddy took me to see Eli yesterday, Uncle Jim." Vanessa tapped her uncle's arm to get his attention.

"Oh?" He glanced at Daniel, who sipped his coffee slowly.

"That was more or less my excuse to see how Pete was holding up." Daniel shrugged, smiling softly. "Eli had a good time, though. He was happy to see her."

"Yeah, we colored together, but then he said that was too girly and wanted to play catch instead." Vanessa pouted.

"Too girly?" Pam almost laughed. "Eli's colored with me before, Vanessa. You bring that boys some Batman coloring sheets and he'll color with you all day."

"Really?" Vanessa grinned. "Oh boy! We sh-"

"Vanessa, finish your lunch." Larissa's icy tone broke through her daughter's planning. Vanessa, unfazed, stopped talking and ate a chicken finger. Larissa caught Jim's glare, but did not say anything.

"I don't think I've ever met a kid as tough as Elijah Halpert, I'm tellin' ya." Daniel slipped a strong arm around the top of his daughter's chair, shaking his head in admiration. "That boy is tough."

"Pete said he was getting roughed around at baseball practice." Gerald continued, leaning forward. "Pete told Coach Garrett, finally. He promised to keep a look out for whoever is messing with Elijah."

"And Pete believes him?" Larissa asked skeptically.

"From what I've heard from Pete, Coach Garrett is an honorable man." Gerald shrugged.

"Brutus was also an honorable man." Pam added with a grin.

"Do I detect a _Julius Caesar_ reference?" Jim winked at her.

Larissa snorted, and she flawlessly took a sip of water. Pam, at first, thought Larissa was laughing with her, but that was clearly not the case. She caught Larissa rolling her eyes and whispering something to her mother.

"_You're good, Beesly." Jim admitted, reaching for her hand. "Uh, yeah, I do know what Elijah's going through."_

_Pam was silent, waiting for Jim to continue. _

"_Uh, when my grandmother died—my father's mother—I really focused on basketball. It became my life. My grandma, she was really the driving force of my family, you know. So, uh, when she died it really shattered my family. Larissa, she left the house and didn't come back. Tom developed some anger issues. Pete and my parents had to take care of everyone, especially Tom. They were always looking after Tom. And now, well, we're taking care of Pete." _

"_And who is taking care of you?" Pam asked softly._

"Pam." Jim nudged Pam back to reality. Frowning, she looked up at him. "Your phone."

"Oh!" Her phone was ringing. She quickly reached inside her purse and pulled it out. Penny, her sister, was calling. "I better take this," she mumbled before looking up. "Excuse me," she stood up, smiling at the Halperts and waving to Vanessa before heading out the door.

Larissa went after her.


	26. Daniel's Time

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-six

* * *

"Parents were the only ones obligated to love you; from the rest of the world you had to earn it"

—Ann Brashares

"So, you promise this is normal?" Pam asked her sister over the phone, concerned.

"I'm sorry I brought it up." Penny laughed. "It's just a little bit of pain, Pam. Nothing unnatural. I'm pregnant, after all."

Pam looked down at the concrete ground of the sidewalk, biting her lip. "You just wanted to check in, then?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, Pam." Penny laughed again. "I needed someone to complain to. I didn't know you'd get this worked up over a little routine pain."

"Oh, I know. It's just everything with Jim's family is really stressing me out and-"

The sound of the door opening captured Pam's attention. She turned to see Larissa, staring back at her with an icy gaze.

"And what?" Penny pressed.

"H-huh?" Pam was distracted. "Oh, nothing. It's nothing."

"Don't leave me hanging, Pam, what's going on with you and Jim?"

"Nothing, Penny. I…listen, I have to go. I hope you feel better soon. I'm coming to visit in a few weeks, okay?"

"Pam, you're avoiding-"

"Bye!" Pam hung up, feeling horrible to cut her sister off like that. She couldn't talk about Jim in front of Larissa, who was no doubt listening to everything that came out of Pam's innocent mouth. Besides, the only Halpert that seemed to truly have a problem with Pam was the woman who was eavesdropping.

"Finished?" Larissa spoke first, stepping forward. "I would hate to interrupt your conversation."

"Hi, Larissa." Pam put her phone back in her purse. "Can I help you?" she tucked some curly hair behind her ear.

"Uh, yes." Larissa said quickly. "You and I need to talk."

"About what?" Pam was almost afraid to ask. Larissa looked lethal.

"You need to stay away from my family, especially Elijah, understand? That boy has been through enough."

Pam was quiet, for she did not want to fight with Jim's sister. However, she could not refrain from rolling her eyes.

"Is it funny to you, Pam?" Larissa noticed.

"Elijah and I get along just fine, thank you." Pam responded confidently. "I'm not doing him any harm."

"Yeah, that's what Tom and his wife thought, and look how Pete treats them now. It's best that you just stay away. Plus, I don't want you near him. You're just Jim's…whatever you are to him. You're nothing special to our family."

"Why are you trying to hate me?" Pam was exasperated. "What did I ever do to you, Larissa? I've only been nice to you."

"I don't want you to be nice. I don't want you around Jim."

"On what grounds can you tell Jim who to be around?" Pam snapped. "You left the family when he was still a kid, you hardly talk to him, and, when you do, you're always rude."

"Don't be so presumptuous. You know nothing about my family."

"I know enough."

"Jim made the mistake of dragging you along to a _private _family event—a _funeral, _mind you—and now you're some Halpert expert?"

"Well, at least we didn't barge into Julia's funeral incredibly late!"

"You never _knew _Julia! Why do you care?" Larissa threw up her hands in annoyance. "He took you along for eye candy."

"He needed support." Pam corrected. "But I appreciate the compliment."

"Don't get your hopes up." Larissa rolled her eyes, this time. "He'll get over you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. And actually-"

"Hey, what's going on?" Daniel and Jim suddenly appeared at the door, eyebrows raised. Jim seemed more concerned than his brother-in-law about the heated argument, and he stepped forward and quickly took Pam's arm.

"Larissa, what are you doing?" Jim frowned.

"Just introducing myself to Pam." Larissa explained. "We never properly met."

"Back off, Larissa." Jim snapped. He knew Larissa was lying just by how stiff Pam was against him.

"James, please, don't be so immature." Larissa huffed, but it was too late. Jim was already heading towards his car, Pam still clinging to his arm. She watched them leave without sincerity or care. She had said what she meant to say.

"Can't you try to be nice to them, Ris?" Daniel begged. "He's your brother, and he really cares about that girl."

"No, Daniel, I'm not going to be nice to her. She's changed Jim. He's different now."

"Yeah, he's happy now."

"Stop, Daniel. It's not that simple." Larissa shook her head. "It's really not."

"It really is." Daniel laughed, moving closer to her. He watched as Jim's car left the parking lot. "You really are a lucky gal. You have a beautiful daughter, you have me-" he grinned at her, "-and you have a big family. Now, let your little brother be happy."

"They're all my little brothers." Larissa sighed, pushing past him. "Besides, it's not like I'm overjoyed at the moment. Not with you leaving me."

"You're taking this the wrong way, Ris. I'm not _leaving _you, not like that. I have a duty with the Coast Guard, and I must serve."

"Oh, that's just great, isn't it? While you're off protecting the country, I'll be here. Alone. Alone just like Peter. I don't want to be anything like him! Julia left him-"

"Now, hold on-"

"She did! She left Peter! She was being stupid. She was speeding and she ran a light and now she's dead. Now Peter and Elijah are alone."

"Tom and Jim aren't alone, Ris. Heck, Tom's married! But you go after his wife and Pam like they've done something wrong."

"Sorry it doesn't make sense to you, but it does to me."

"Ris, I won't be gone long. Not like last time." Daniel took his difficult wife by the arms. "I promised you before and I'll promise you again: I will return. I'll come back for you, for our daughter, and for our families."

Larissa was unnaturally quiet, and she nodded only to confirm that she heard him.

"Besides," Dan assured her with renewed energy, "We have a long time before I'm deployed."

"Long enough." Larissa jerked away from his grip and stormed back into the restaurant.


	27. Realization

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-seven

* * *

"All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair."

—Mitch Albom, _The Five People You Meet in Heaven_

Pam searched her apartment desperately for that necklace. That necklace, a piece of jewelry that went with her dress so perfectly yet decided to hide from her when she wanted it most. The necklace from Jim.

Oh, why could she never find what she was looking for when Jim was coming over? She bent down near the couch and ran her hand along the carpet.

_Ring. _

Jerking up, Pam accidentally hit her head on the couch.

_Ring. _

Rubbing her head, Pam hurried over to her phone and looked at the Caller ID. It was not Jim calling, but, in fact, Dylan, Penny's husband. Why would Pam's brother-in-law call Pam and not Penny? With a shrug, Pam picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Dylan?"

"Hi, Pam." Dylan's soft voice answered after a slight hesitation. Dylan was an incredibly quiet, scholarly man; it was always a wonder to Pam how he married her boisterous sister.

"How are you? Is everything okay with Penny?" Pam frowned. She picked up a couch cushion and promptly picked up her necklace. She knew it was somewhere in that couch.

"Yes, Penny's fine." Dylan answered. Pam could almost visualize him nodding to himself. "Everything…she…Listen, Pam, we have to tell you something."

"Yeah?" Pam sat down on the couch, holding the phone with her shoulder so she could untangle her necklace with both hands.

"Um, well-" Dylan paused. The line went silent for a while, but Pam hardly noticed, too enthralled with the necklace. "Penny…she, uh…she miscarried our baby."

Pam dropped the necklace. She was so shocked she did not know what to do. No. No, that wasn't possible. Pam was going to be an aunt, the baby couldn't just _back out _on that decision.

And even if it was true, what could Pam do? She did not live remotely near Penny and Dylan, they hardly saw each other and even then only for holidays. Pam was surprised that she and Penny were even close; that they liked each other.

"I…Dylan, I…I should be with you two." Her mouth moved automatically, she did not know what she was saying.

"No, no, Pam." Dylan answered hastily. "Penny…we just want to be alone right now. Just until we can, you know, figure things out again."

"Dylan, that's no way to-"

"We just wanted to let you know what had happened. Goodnight, Pam." Dylan ended the phone conversation as quickly as he had started it.

Pam had no idea what to do. She was horribly upset, holding back the urge to call Penny as she set down the phone. She ran a hand through her curls and looked blankly ahead of her, her rampant thoughts and assumptions boiling down into one, single, salty tear that fell from her poignant face onto the couch. She was immobilized by a sudden realization of what Penny was dealing with.

And now she was back to wondering what she could do. Sending a card seemed far too tacky for such a major tragedy. She couldn't very well see Penny, since she lived so damn far away. Besides, Penny wanted to be alone.

Oh, why did this have to happen to Penny? What did she ever do wrong? She was an innocent woman, just like—

Julia.

_Jim_, the name came to Pam suddenly. She was getting ready for a date with Jim. Oh, she certainly couldn't go on a date after a phone call like that. She had to call him. _No_, she thought to herself as she stood and grabbed her coat, _I'll tell him in person._

* * *

"I'm not what you mean by that question." Tom Halpert answered stiffly; staring at Elijah's little league coach, Garrett. Isabella sat next to him, back straight and plate full. She had lost her appetite after hearing what Coach Garrett had to say.

They had invited him over for dinner, Tom and her. They figured that, since Pete wasn't talking to them about Eli anymore, that going to the man who was teaching the kids messing with Eli was the next step. Garrett was a large man with meaty arms and short hair. He had pushed his way past Tom and Isabella's unusually noisy dog and greeted them with gruff 'hellos'. Luckily for the Halperts, Garrett had also noticed Elijah's cuts and bruises. He was concerned for his talented player. Garrett was impressed; however, that Elijah kept coming to practice. He was one of the team's best players.

That's when Garrett asked the question. He wanted to know if they thought Pete Halpert was a violent man.

Garrett nearly laughed, shaking his head and leaning forward. "All due respect, Mr. Halpert, I'm sure you know exactly what I mean."

"Pete would never hurt his own child." Isabella spoke for her husband, all but glaring at Garrett.

"Oh, I think he would." Garrett responded evenly. "And I think he has for some time now."

"On what grounds is my brother a violent person?" Tom asked calmly, but Isabella could see Tom's ears prick up in curiosity, and his hands grip the table in anger. Curiosity and anger were not a good combination for the rage-prone Tom.

"Your brother walks up to me every time he picks up his son and demands to know who is hurting his son. Over and over again my players have denied ever laying a hand on Eli. These kids are not violent, Mr. Halpert. They enjoy the game of baseball and want to learn to play it well. They didn't sign up for little league so that they can beat on a little kid. Why would Pete be so defensive? Only because he is hurting his own son, and trying to blame it on my kids."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard in my life." Tom stood up quickly. "Besides, you've definitely overstayed your welcome."

"So, you don't believe me?" Garrett stood as well.

"Not at all."

"I thought that wouldn't convince you. I know you two are close."

Tom scoffed, but did not say anything. _You don't know anything about me_. Tom began to hand Garrett his fleece jacket.

"Hold on." Garrett held up a large hand. "Just hold on. I'm not finished."

"I don't believe you, Garrett!" Tom nearly yelled. "You know damn well who is hurting Elijah and you're trying to pin it on his father! I don't buy it!"

"I saw Pete hit Elijah!" Garrett responded with a scowl. He did not want to have to say that.

"What?" Tom froze where he stood.

"I…I didn't believe it myself, when I first saw it. It was after Pete had come to me, once again, asking about the apparent 'bullies' on my team. I followed him out to the parking lot, and Eli was there, pretending to drive. Pete got so mad that he hit Eli, right on the jaw. I'm sure you've seen that bruise before, too. Just another bruise that Pete's given Eli. I mean, the kid was only pretending to drive."

"You're lying." Tom whispered. He had paled.

"I'm not. I'm not, Mr. Halpert. I wish I was. Pete, he seemed very…well, it obviously wasn't the first time he had hit his son, if you know what I mean."

Isabella slowly stood, staring at her husband. He had turned a very pale shade of white, and his hands had balled into fists. He seemed to be processing the news very slowly, but Isabella only knew that, in Tom's mind, he was twisting the information until there was no room for any shred of goodness left inside of him.

Tom closed his eyes. _Pete hit Eli. Pete hits Eli. Pete hurts Eli. Pete has been hurting Elijah. _

"Bastard." Tom whispered through clenched teeth. "Dirty bastard."

"Tom-" Isabella started, but it was too late. Tom glanced only once at Garrett before grabbing his keys and storming out the door. Isabella followed him desperately.

"Who are you going to?" She called out to him in a state of panic. She received one word for a response.

"Jim."


	28. Breakdown

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-eight

* * *

"The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother"

—Theodore Hesburgh

Jim stared at himself in his bathroom mirror; his hands curled around the porcelain sink tightly. He couldn't get Elijah's words out of his mind. He wanted to shake the memories from his system—he had to go pick up Pam soon—but he could not.

"_Show Uncle Jim what happened yesterday at practice," Isabella nodded knowingly at Elijah, who rolled up his shirt sleeve. An ugly bruise marked his smooth shoulder. Jim frowned. _

"_How did you get that?" he asked cautiously. _

"_I got hit with a baseball." Eli shrugged. "Coach Garrett Harland says I'm tough, though. He likes me."_

That wasn't the only incident Eli flippantly spoke of his recurring injuries. Even Jim's roommate, Mark, who was out of town visiting family, had noticed Elijah's bruises.

"_How'd you get that shiner, Elijah?" _

"_Oh, baseball practice." Eli shrugged. "It was an accident. It doesn't hurt."_

"_Jim, this kid's tough!" Mark laughed._

The whole ordeal made no sense to Jim, and the fact bothered him more than ever. Eli passed off his injuries so casually, almost like he was used to them. But how could he keep getting hurt all the time? All he ever did was go to baseball practice when he wasn't at home or at school. Eli never mentioned school, as it wasn't his favorite place to be. Most of the immediate Halpert family had heard from Pete that Eli was getting pushed around from some baseball teammates, but Elijah had never confirmed the fact, and the truth was, Jim had been to Eli's games and the kids playing with him seemed as harmless as Eli. That only left one place. Home.

Pete.

Jim jerked back from the sink, unable to look at his shocked self in the mirror. It all made terrible, terrible sense now. Pete. He was hurting Elijah.

_Now, there has to be some way to rationalize this, _Jim hurriedly thought as he grabbed his shirt and headed out of the bathroom. Pete was hurting Elijah in his grief and anger over the way Julia died, simple as that. But there was nothing simple about child abuse.

Cursing, Jim grabbed tuffs of his hair and tugged angrily. How could he have been so stupid? He had failed his nephew, who, for some time now, was passing off his father's hurtful ways as a casual misunderstanding between teammates. Oh, he had been so dumb. He—

He had to get Eli. He had to take him away from his father. He had to take his nephew away from his brother. Jim's eyes began to brim with disappointed tears. He sniffed quickly, hoping the tears would subside. With a gruff clearing of his throat, Jim pulled on his shirt and began to button it up with shaky hands. _Of course_, he thought, _I'll have to cancel my date with Pam. Eli is my first priority and—_

A sharp knocking on Jim's door interrupted his thoughts. With an almost inaudible curse, Jim fixed his collar and tried his best to ignore whoever was at the door. The knocking, however, continued.

"Go away!" Jim groaned, grabbing his car keys and wallet, slipping them in his pocket.

"Jim! Please!" the voice begged. Jim stopped cold. He knew that voice. It was her. Why would she come to his apartment? He was supposed to pick her up. He rushed over to the door and opened it.

Pam fell immediately into his arms, crying softly. She kept shaking her head feverishly, and her grip was tight around his chest.

"Pam?" Jim whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her straightened hair. "What's wrong, Pam?"

"It's Penny!" Pam spoke through a desperate gasp for air.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked cautiously. He led her over to the couch, where she collapsed in an exhausted heap. She was shaking her head again.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I'm sorry. I don't want to cry like this." She sniffed, her hands over her face.

"What happened?" Jim asked, concerned. He took a trembling hand in his own and kissed it.

"She…she, uh," Pam sniffed again, "it's her baby." Tears threatened to fall again, and Pam looked away from Jim's wide eyes. "She lost the baby."

Jim's shoulders slumped poignantly. He let out a devastated breath. "Pam-"

"Jim!" Tom was suddenly in the room, eyes blazing and hands balled into fists. He had burst through the open door and hadn't bothered to close it, either. He did not seem to notice Pam, his eyes set solely on Jim. "Jim, you tell me right now if you knew about Pete."

Jim slowly stood, standing slightly in front of Pam. He knew just how reckless Tom could get when he was angry enough. "What are you talking about, man?"

"Cut it out, Jim!" Tom snapped. "I'm talking about Eli! Did you know that Pete was knocking our nephew around?"

Jim took in a deep breath. "I sort of just figured that out."

"Come with me, then." Tom's rage faded just a little, and he looked relieved. "I'm going to Pete's."

Although Jim was angry about Eli's abuse as well, he was more worried about Tom at the moment. Nothing good came from Tom getting angry.

"Tom-"

"_Tom!" _Isabella rushed into the apartment, now. Jim gave her an exasperated look. His blonde sister-in-law manically grabbed her husband's arm and frantically tried to drag him away. "Please don't do this, Tom."

Tom let her hold onto him, but he was shaking with rage. It was almost like he did not know she was there.

"Let go, Bell." He whispered softly, his eyes closed. He was visibly shaking. Jim stood his ground in front of Pam, who had reached to grab his hand from behind. _She has no idea, _Jim knew, _she has no idea of Tom's anger problems. _

"I'm not letting go until you come home with me, Tom." Isabella answered pleadingly. "Please, Tom, please come home. Don't do this. Don't hurt Pete."

"Please let go," Tom said again, his voice bordering concern, "please let go before I do something I regret."

Fear flashed in Isabella's eyes. She let go immediately, holding back tears. When Tom turned to thank her, Isabella couldn't look at him. She wouldn't look at him. Instead, she glanced over at Pam, who was wiping her eyes. Fleetingly, she wondered if she and Jim had had a fight.

"Jim," Tom spoke again, breaking the silence. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah." Jim spoke after a slight hesitation. "Yeah, I'm coming with you."

"Let's go." Tom nodded, his only thanks, and began to head towards the door.

"_Please_, think about this, Tom." Isabella implored once more.

"No. No, Bell, how can you say that? He's your nephew, too." Tom snapped.

"And Pete is Eli's father. I'm telling you to back off. For Eli's sake."

"I'm _tired_ of taking orders!" Tom yelled at her. "Pete's been telling me what to do ever since Julia died, and I'm tired of it! I'm _going _to see Pete. And Jim's coming with me, dammit."

"Let me go with you, too." Isabella suggested hurriedly.

"No!" Tom answered immediately.

"I'm not scared of you, Tom." Isabella whispered. "Please don't try to scare me."

"Me? Me? No, Bell, this is about Pete. If what Garrett Harland said is true, then you're not safe around Pete, got it?"

Isabella was silent. With a grim face, she turned away from her husband. She gave Jim and icy stare and joined Pam at the couch. Tom took that as his answer and rushed out of the door.

Jim watched Tom leave before turning back to Pam and Isabella. "I will take care of him, I promise." He promised softly to his sister-in-law. He gave Pam a sorrowful look. Through her watery tears, she managed to smile at him, and he took that as his motivation, running after Tom.

* * *

Pete Halpert ate his micro waved dinner alone in his kitchen illuminated only by a dull light that blinked every few seconds. Elijah was with his grandparents for the night.

He thought about anyone but himself. He thought about how happy Tom was only months before as he gushed that he wanted to start a family soon. Isabella and Julia spent every Sunday afternoon together. And he thought about his baby brother, Jim, who was happy with Pam. He was happy for him. Jim used to speak about the loving Pam even before they started dating, and Julia would often tell Pete how happy she was to see little Jim finally grow up.

Pete wished Julia was alive. Oh, he wished he could see her again. He always felt so hopeless nowadays. He couldn't concentrate on anything anymore. Not even eating.

He pushed aside his frozen dinner and watched the light flicker again until it finally stopped shining.


	29. Breakthrough

The Nephew

The Office

Chapter twenty-nine

* * *

"Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related for better or for worse...and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum"

—Rick Riordan, _The Sea of Monsters_

Both Isabella and Pam knew the game they were playing with one another. The game of pretend. Pam tried not to cry, and Isabella tried not to worry.

The two women sat stiffly and silently together on Jim's couch, afraid to leave his humble apartment and chase after the headstrong men. Well, the headstrong Tom and the bumbling Jim. Isabella hoped desperately that Jim did not get hurt due to his reckless, older brother's vow for revenge. And, of course, she worried about Tom.

Pam stared down at her feet. She dared not look at Jim's sister-in-law. The few times she had met Isabella Halpert, who was skinnier than Pam, albeit a tad shorter, she had been amazed at the woman's beauty. Her blonde hair was perfectly taken care of, her makeup was impeccable, and she sat with such posture that made Pam feel helpless. How was she supposed to impress Jim when he was used to the sheer elegance of Isabella? Even her _name_ was elegant.

With a soft, whispering sigh, Isabella slowly stood and headed over to Jim's kitchenette. She grabbed a bottle of water from his refrigerator and then pulled a cup out from a cupboard. She seemed to know where everything was in Jim's small kitchenette. Pam had no idea where anything was.

"Do you want water?" Isabella asked, almost as an afterthought once rejoining Pam on the couch. "I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't think to ask."

"Sure." Pam whispered. Her throat was painfully sore from all of her crying. She wiped her eyes as she looked up at Isabella, who seemed to be debating getting up from the lumpy couch once more. With a wistful shrug, she opened the bottle of water and poured half of the contents into the cup before handing it to Pam. For herself, she took a small sip from the bottle.

"Thank you," Pam mumbled, drinking the water gratefully.

Isabella glanced at her, pushing aside some of her blonde hair. "This isn't the first time, you know."

"What do you mean?" Pam asked.

"Tom. He's…" Isabella looked down, trying to figure out what to say. "He has anger issues. I know that. I knew that when I said yes to his proposal. I knew that when I first started dating him. Did you know that Pete set us up?" she smiled softly at the memory. "Yeah. Anyway, I just want you that I'm not in total shock. He just, he tends to angry really easily. I usually can talk him down, but I guess not tonight."

"How do you do it?" Pam wondered. "How are you so patient with him? I mean, he almost seemed dangerous."

Isabella let her composure fall, and she leaned back against the couch cushions. "I love him. I love him so much, and thank God he knows that. Thank God he loves me, too."

Pam took another sip of water. "My ex-fiancée, uh, he was sort of like Tom. You know, reckless and all." She glanced over at Isabella, who was listening intently. "His name was Roy. He…thought I was having an affair with Jim."

"Were you?" Isabella asked.

"No," Pam quickly assured her. "No. He…he walked in on us kissing. It was just one kiss. He—he gave me this necklace."

"I know." Isabella couldn't help but grin. "I helped pick it out. Julia and I did. She was always so interested in…well, we all love Jim."

"Tom too?"

"Of course." Isabella nodded quickly. "Tom loves his little brother, he would never hurt him. His anger…it's just-"

Two knocks on the door interrupted the two young women. They stared at each other.

"I'll get it." Pam smiled softly at Isabella and rose, setting down her cup of water. The knocking did not continue, Pam noted. Whoever was at the door must not be in a hurry. She reached the door and easily opened it, staring in shock at the last person she wanted to see.

Larissa.

* * *

Jim and Tom Halpert stood next to each other on the front step of Pete's house. The dark of night only added to the horrid feeling that Jim had in his stomach.

"Is the door locked?" Tom asked his little brother.

"What?" Jim glanced at him. "Oh, I don't know. I rang the doorbell."

"You rang the doorbell?" Tom repeated angrily. "Dammit, Jim, we're not a couple of girl scouts, here." He began to knock rapidly and loudly. "Open up!" he yelled. Jim closed his eyes and tried not to groan as he heard footsteps coming closer to the door.

"Pete-"

The door flew open. Pete Halpert stared at his younger brothers with raised eyebrows. "What's wrong, guys?"

Tom snapped. He grabbed Pete by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall just inside the house. Admittedly, this was easy to do, as Pete had lost weight. Jim quickly closed the door behind them.

"Cut the crap, Pete! We all know what you've been doing." Tom growled. "If you lay another _finger_ on Elijah I will beat the living hell out of you, do you understand?"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Pete stared at Tom, dumbfounded. He attempted to pry Tom off of him, but the angry man wouldn't budge. "Tom? Jim? What's going on?"

"Stop lying!" It was Jim who was yelling, now. "Stop denying what you've done!"

"What have I done?" Pete roared. "What the hell have I done?"

"Dammit, Pete! Shut up, will ya?" Tom pushed him again. "These lies make me _sick_! The evidence is all here, man; you're beating the crap out of your kid!"

With a swift swing of his fist, Pete punched Tom.

* * *

"You again?" Larissa rolled her eyes and sighed at the sight of Pam. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Isabella stood up stiffly.

"I'm looking for James, obviously." Larissa pushed past Pam and stepped into the apartment. Her stilettos, jeans, and v-neck top made her look like some sort of sultry goddess. As she glanced disapprovingly among the two women, she caught onto their glum nature. "What the hell happened to you two?" she muttered, chewing her gum as a statement of her sheer casualness.

"Oh, like you care." Isabella snapped.

"Did James give her the boot?" Larissa raised her eyebrows at Pam.

"Of course not!" Pam started. "I-"

"Or, did _Thomas _give his precious Isabella what she was asking for?" Larissa wondered aloud. "Boy, that would be the day."

"Why don't you worry about your own problems for once?" Isabella retorted angrily.

"Oh." Larissa beamed. "Oh, I see I've hit a nerve. What did he do? Kick you to the curb? Get on one of those anger highs and hit you? What did you do? I mean, Thomas doesn't get angry for nothing…well, maybe sometimes, and, of course, I'm sure James said something stup-"

"Can't you just shut up for once?" Pam screamed. "My sister miscarried her baby, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you wanted?" Collapsing on Jim's couch, Pam once again began to cry.


End file.
